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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243628">Blood Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickerdoodlepop/pseuds/Snickerdoodlepop'>Snickerdoodlepop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Humor, Blood Magic, Dark Voldemort, Even More Politics!, F/M, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Light Harry, Lots of Tension mixed with Lots of Humor, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, No character bashing, Oblivious Harry, Political Harry Potter, Possessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), S.P.E.W., Soul Magic, Things Finally Heat Up!, Well-Meaning Albus Dumbledore, Wizengamot, very slow burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:40:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickerdoodlepop/pseuds/Snickerdoodlepop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter has just escaped the clutches of Lord Voldemort. The Wizarding World is ecstatic, Harry is more famous than ever (much to Snape’s annoyance), and Draco Malfoy can finally catch a break.</p>
<p>Things would be back to normal, if it wasn’t for Harry’s continued dreams with a certain Tom Riddle. A young and handsome man who’s more connected to Voldemort than Harry ever imagined. Tom Riddle is a fantasy that’s far more alluring than Harry would like to admit.</p>
<p>What happens when Voldemort tries to convince Harry to return to his side willingly? What happens when Harry tries to find some good in Tom Riddle and change him for the better? Who will give in first? Who will change forever? Surely, the Wizarding World will never be the same.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Phoenix's Read But Not Complete List | Not Updated, TomarryFics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Return of Harry Potter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome Back!</p>
<p>This is a sequel! This story begins right after Winter Holidays in Harry’s 6th Year. I’ve summarized the events of the previous story quite thoroughly, so if you’re interested in this one, you should be able to jump right in and follow along with what’s going on. YOU DO NOT NEED TO HAVE READ PART 1. However, if you’re curious about the events that are being alluded to, you’re welcome to check out Mind Magic for the beginning of this saga.</p>
<p>Warning: While there are other relationships, the main pairing is Harry Potter/Tom Riddle (Voldemort). While the previous story was rated Teen, this story is rated Explicit and will contain some passionate scenes down the line. That being said, this is a Very Slow Burn, so get ready for a looong ride. </p>
<p>As always: I do not own Harry Potter, this outrageous Wizarding World, or any of these delightful characters. (Although I’m happy to borrow them!) This story is entirely for my and your entertainment, with no payment or profit. </p>
<p>A very special thank you to Michele and Natalie who beta’d my entire first story and have already begun checking over this one. You guys can’t imagine how many hours they spent reading and editing and brainstorming with me. They are the real heroes of this tale.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>GET THE INSIDE SCOOP:</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>HOW HARRY POTTER ESCAPED THE CLUTCHES OF HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED!</strong>
</p>
<p>Harry was up early on Friday morning, eating breakfast in the hospital wing, while flipping through the Daily Prophet. The front page had an enormous picture of the Boy-Who-Lived entering the Hogwarts Great Hall with his friends on each side. The photo must have been taken the night before, when Harry joined the other Gryffindors for dinner. Based on the angle of the photo, it was taken by a Slytherin.</p>
<p>He wondered how much the student got paid for a photo of Harry that was more recent than the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Probably a lot.</p>
<p>“It’s a very flattering article,” Hermione pointed out. She and Ron sat on either side of him. They had finished their breakfasts early, so they could visit with him before morning classes. Hermione was in a chipper mood and had brought along three copies of the paper so they could all read together. Ron could barely keep his eyes open and yawned every minute like clockwork.</p>
<p>“Check it out, mate,” Ron paused for another yawn. “All of page six is about you.”</p>
<p>Harry flipped to page six and saw the subheading: ‘<em>Exclusive Interview with Albus Dumbledore and the Brave Witches and Wizards Who Aided in the Chosen-One’s Return to Hogwarts</em>.’ Harry skimmed the article without much interest. He already knew what had happened.</p>
<p>Sure enough, as Dumbledore had promised, the man had explained certain details while leaving other things to the imagination. Some things were outright lies.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘As our readers know, Harry Potter was kidnapped on the afternoon of Friday, December 31<sup>st</sup> while attending an exclusive meeting in Diagon Alley.’</em>
</p>
<p>That was true enough, although he wasn’t sure how exclusive the SPEW meeting had been. There hadn’t been many people there (just Hermione and a couple others). But that was more due to lack of interest than exclusivity.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘It had seemed as though all hope was lost, until miraculously, Harry Potter’s Patronus arrived in the office of Albus Dumbledore on the night of Monday, January 3<sup>rd</sup>. The Boy-Who-Lived had escaped!’ </em>
</p>
<p>Had he really only been with Voldemort for three days? It had felt a lot longer.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Professor Minerva McGonagall, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, and former-Auror Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody found the young man unconscious and alone in the woods of Gloucestershire county.’</em>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“That’s a lie!”</p>
<p>Remus Lupin threw the newspaper onto the bed and paced up and down in irritation. “He wasn’t found alone. He was with a man-eating werewolf. A horrible monster.”</p>
<p>“Remus,” Kingsley’s voice was calm, but his eyes held a stern warning. “If you don’t sit back down in that bed, I’m going to tackle you again. You’re supposed to be resting.”</p>
<p>“If he doesn’t tackle you, I will.” Nymphadora Tonks gave him a mischievous smile. “And I bite.”</p>
<p>Kingsley and Dora had joined him in his hospital room at St. Mungo’s. The hour was dreadfully early, giving them time to meet before their Auror shifts, but Kingsley was still alert and focused as always. Dora’s blue hair was un-combed, and her robes were on backwards. She didn’t seem to have noticed yet.</p>
<p>Remus sat back down on his narrow hospital bed with a sigh of frustration. “I almost killed him. I would have killed him, if Harry hadn’t smashed me in the face with that broom.”</p>
<p>“But you didn’t! He’s fine!” Tonks practically shouted. There was no point in keeping their voices down. Due to his condition, Remus had been given a private room, and Kingsley had wasted no time in erecting a privacy ward.</p>
<p>“According to Dumbledore, the first thing he asked about was you.” Kingsley slowly turned the page of his newspaper. Everything he did was deliberate and methodical. “He was just as worried about you, as you were about him.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dora flipped though her own copy. Remus noticed that hers had a few tea stains and several extra fold lines, as if she had been doing origami with it. “You’re both fine now, so sit down and let’s see what other lies the Daily Prophet printed.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>‘After days of recovery, the Chosen One is finally awake and ready to share the details of his terrifying imprisonment and harrowing escape!’</em>
</p>
<p>“They certainly used a lot of adjectives,” Hermione commented. She was at least two pages ahead of Harry and Ron.</p>
<p>“Dumbledore said he kept a lot of details vague, so they must have been playing fill-in-the-blank,” Harry explained.</p>
<p>“Merlin,” Ron rolled his eyes and flipped to the next page. “You’d think being kidnapped by You-Know-Who was bad enough without having to make up gruesome tidbits.”</p>
<p>Ron had a point. The majority of the article was about what <em>might</em> have happened to Harry while he was being held for three days. Apparently, Dumbledore had been really sparse on details.</p>
<p>Dumbledore told the reporters that Harry had been kept in a locked room, inside a building Harry could not locate.</p>
<p>The headmaster never mentioned that the room had been a posh suite, with an attached bathroom and an enormous bed. Therefore, the newspaper speculated that it must have been a dank cell, or a nightmarish torture chamber.</p>
<p>Dumbledore told them that Harry had interacted with Voldemort’s huge snake.</p>
<p>The Daily Prophet made no mention of the bubble bath they took together, or the way Harry had pet her scales just the way she liked, or the silly conversations they’d shared. (Of course, Harry hadn’t elaborated much about that to Dumbledore.) Instead, the newspaper spent three paragraphs describing all the horrible things a snake can do to a person without killing them. When Harry saw the phrase ‘unhinged jaw,’ he quickly skipped ahead.</p>
<p>Dumbledore told the press that Harry had been given potions and subjected to the Cruciatus curse.</p>
<p>That was technically true. Although, the potion had been a thoroughly relaxing calming draught, which Harry might have enjoyed under other circumstances. As for the torture curse, there was no mention that it had only been used twice. The first time, when Harry refused to take the stupid calming potion. The second one hadn’t even been aimed at him. It was intended for Kreacher the house elf, but Harry had jumped in the way at the last second.</p>
<p>The Daily Prophet was extremely creative in their descriptions of what potions Harry might have been subjected to. Harry hadn’t realized there existed potions that increased the amount of pain one could feel, but apparently they were out there somewhere.</p>
<p>“This is distasteful,” Hermione sniffed. “This is a public newspaper, intended for readers of all ages. They shouldn’t be printing such horrific details. Especially when they’re just speculation.”</p>
<p>“Hey Harry, remember when You-Know-Who put that locket and tiara on you?” Ron asked. “And then he fed you that fancy breakfast?”</p>
<p>“Oh, well it was such a forgettable experience,” Harry rolled his eyes. “But now that you’ve reminded me, it’s starting to come back.”</p>
<p>Ron chuckled. “While he was feeding you tea and crumpets, did he by any chance <em>‘cut your limbs off and then use a potion to grow news ones, just so he could do it all over again</em>?’”</p>
<p>“It does not say that!” Hermione flipped ahead to check.</p>
<p>“Not in the main article,” Ron agreed. “But the Op-Ed Section is all about Harry, too. There are a bunch of letters to the editor. People giving their own opinions on what might have happened. I’m kind of worried about the general public, if these are the things people think about in their spare time.”</p>
<p>“Does the article say anything about Remus?” Harry asked. “What do people think happened to him?”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Oh, for the love of Godric!” Remus cried. “None of this happened.”</p>
<p>“None?” Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “You were held captive by Fenrir Greyback.”</p>
<p>“Ok,” Remus relented. “That part’s true. But the rest of this… I wasn’t kept in a cage for one thing. And all the nonsense about the pack marking me as their own…” Remus shuddered. “Not even Greyback’s pack would be that unhygienic.”</p>
<p>“I still can’t believe you were giving them tutorials on proper spellwork,” Dora sniggered. “I can just imagine you in your wizard robes, lecturing to the most feared werewolf pack in Britain on proper wand technique. You can’t help yourself, can you?”</p>
<p>Remus held up the newspaper to try and hide his blush. “I’m surprised they bothered to mention me at all. Harry’s the real story.”</p>
<p>“Well, they don’t spare too many words for you,” Kingsley noted. “Although, I don’t think the Daily Prophet has ever spoken so highly of a known werewolf. Not that it’s particularly complimentary.”</p>
<p>The taller man had a point. The wizarding newspaper spoke about Remus as if he were a regrettable accident.</p>
<p>‘<em>Remus Lupin had been a brilliant student, an upstanding citizen, and a friend of James and Lily Potter before and during the First Wizarding War. Unfortunately, at some point between 1981 and 1993, Lupin was bitten by a vicious werewolf, and fell under the power of the curse.</em>’</p>
<p>“They think you became a werewolf after the war!” Dora gaped.</p>
<p>“Well, they know he was outed as a werewolf while he was working at Hogwarts,” said Kingsley. “They can’t wrap their heads around the idea that he might have been a brilliant student while also being a werewolf.”</p>
<p>‘<em>Despite the Darkness lurking under the man’s skin, Harry Potter has retained a relatively amicable relationship with Lupin; likely out of obligation to his late parents.</em>’</p>
<p>Remus frowned at the words printed on the page. He would hate to think that Harry was only spending time with him out of a sense of obligation. And yet, it was clear that Remus was a danger to Harry. He had almost torn the poor boy to shreds earlier that week.</p>
<p>“This is the biggest load of tosh I’ve ever read!” Dora had a very different emotional reaction. She ripped her paper in half and was crumbling up the pieces. “<em>Darkness under your skin! Relatively amicable!</em> I’ll show them relatively amicable!”</p>
<p>“Tonks, calm down.” Kingsley didn’t even look up from his paper. If the words had upset him, he didn’t show it. “It could be a lot worse. They go on to say that Remus seems to have done his best to repress his Dark urges.”</p>
<p>Remus continued to read.</p>
<p>‘<em>Lupin appears to be a rare example of law-abiding werewolf. Not only is he fully registered, he has never eaten any innocent wizards or witches while in his violent wolf-form</em>.’</p>
<p>“Only because he managed to stop me,” he muttered.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Dumbledore was right,” said Hermione. “It’s a good thing he lied about finding you with Remus. If the public knew he almost ate you, it would not go well for him.”</p>
<p>“This is rubbish,” Harry threw down his paper. “How can they even print this?”</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Ron was laughing. “Repressing his Dark urges!” There were tears in his eyes. “Oh, I’ve seen him give into his dark urges, all right. Sneaking those little chocolate biscuits he kept in his desk!”</p>
<p>Harry felt some of his indignation seep out at Ron’s laughter. The situation was ridiculous. The Prophet was wrong about everything else. There was no point in getting angry just because they were wrong about one more thing.</p>
<p>“To be fair, it is the nicest thing I’ve seen them write about a werewolf,” Hermione noted. Then her voice got quiet. “I wonder if I could use some of those SPEW funds to help werewolves as well as House Elves.”</p>
<p> “Come on, Harry, they talk about your escape on page ten.” Ron encouraged. “I want to see how much they’ve bungled that before we have to go to class.”</p>
<p>Harry reached down to grab the paper again and flipped ahead.</p>
<p>‘<em>On the evening of Sunday, January 2<sup>nd</sup>, Harry Potter managed to steal a wand from an unsuspecting Death Eater. With a wand in hand, Harry snuck to a window, unlocked it, and summoned his well-known Firebolt broomstick from across two counties</em>.’</p>
<p>That was another lie. He and Dumbledore agreed that it was better to claim that Harry had stolen a wand, rather than admit he’d used wandless magic. Of course, this meant that Harry didn’t have a wand. His phoenix-feather wand was still at Voldemort’s hideout. Harry didn’t know what the plan was for getting him a new one. He was supposed to start classes on Monday. He’d have to ask Dumbledore.</p>
<p>The newspaper went on to say that he snuck out of the building the next day when the coast was clear. There was no mention of his invisibility cloak. People didn’t need to know about that.</p>
<p>The Daily Prophet said that he freed Remus, and the two escaped together. That was another partial lie. He’d found his former professor grappling with Fenrir Greyback, and then Remus had used such powerful Elemental Magic, he managed to knock himself out. Harry had been forced to roll Remus onto the broom. They’d barely made it away before Voldemort realized they were missing.</p>
<p>As discussed, the headmaster claimed that Harry dropped off Remus before the full moon. Dumbledore told the reporters that Harry had smashed his Firebolt crashing into a tree, rather than slamming it across an angry werewolf’s face.</p>
<p>Harry let out a slight smile. No one knew that Moony had tried to attack him. Professor Lupin was still safe.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“He’s not safe with me!” Remus couldn’t get past this one obvious fact. “I almost killed him.”</p>
<p>“He’s fine,” Dora began, but Remus cut her off.</p>
<p>“Only because he got lucky. Only because he was able to defend himself against my attack. I don’t know what I was thinking when I applied to adopt him.”</p>
<p>Kingsley snapped his newspaper into his lap as if coming to attention. “What did you just say? You’re not seriously rethinking the adoption?”</p>
<p>“Of course I have to rethink the adoption. So does Harry. That is, if he even wants to speak to me again after such a harrowing experience.”</p>
<p>Suddenly, a huge wad of newspaper came flying at his head from Dora’s direction. “Remus, you daft, whingeing flubberworm!” She was on her feet, looking rather intimidating despite her short stature. The new shade of violent red hair didn’t help. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare wallow in self-pity, while that boy risked his life to save both of you! People care about you, you complete berk. Just maybe those people want a say in whether or not you’re in their lives.”</p>
<p>Remus glanced over at Kingsley, but the other Auror was merely blinking his dark eyes. He showed no sign of interfering. Remus turned back to Dora. She still looked furious.</p>
<p>“So help me, Remus,” she seethed. “If you tell Harry that you’ve changed your mind and you aren’t going to adopt him after all that, you’re going to break his heart.” She gave a regrettable shrug. “And then I’m going to have to tell Molly that you hurt him. And you’re going to have something much scarier than a feral werewolf chasing after you.”</p>
<p>Remus swallowed. She seemed sincere in her threat.</p>
<p>“Or there’s another option,” Kingsley finally spoke up. “You could learn to control yourself while you’re transformed. Greyback can. He can’t be the only werewolf who can control his wolf side.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that simple,” Remus tried to explain. “Greyback has been a werewolf his whole life. He was raised as a werewolf.”</p>
<p>“So what?” asked Dora. “You’ve been a werewolf almost your whole life, despite what the paper thinks.”</p>
<p>“But I wasn’t raised like one,” Remus ran a hand through his greying hair. “Besides, ever since I graduated Hogwarts, whenever I transform, I turn into a vicious monster.”</p>
<p>“Probably because every time you transform, you lock yourself in a tiny room so you can’t hurt anyone,” said Kingsley. “I can’t imagine most wolves like being locked in a tiny room.”</p>
<p>“I know I wouldn’t,” Dora agreed.</p>
<p>“Maybe, Remus, you shouldn’t be cutting yourself off from your friends,” Kingsley continued. “Maybe now is the time to reach out to that werewolf pack you’ve been visiting. I think they have more they can teach you than just Elemental Magic.”</p>
<p>Remus was staring at nothing, lost in thought. What would it be like if he could work with Moony instead of against him? Would it be like the old days, when he used to run with the Marauders? Would it be possible to feel that kind of peace again?</p>
<p>“Think about it, Remus,” Kingsley finally stood up. “We have to get going, and Tonks here still needs to put her robes on the right way.”</p>
<p>She looked down and finally noticed they were on backwards. “Dammit.”</p>
<p>“If you need friends,” Kingsley squeezed his shoulder. “We’re here.”</p>
<p>It would be nice to have people he could depend on again. It would be nice not to feel guilty all the time for something he couldn’t help.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Harry spent the rest of Friday lying in bed, bored out of his mind. Without anything else to entertain him, he was forced to spend his time reading over his friends’ notes from the week of classes he had missed. While the notes had been a nice gesture, he wasn’t sure how helpful they were.</p>
<p>He spent almost an hour trying to decipher what Hermione had written down for McGonagall’s Wednesday lecture. Her careful analysis involved several diagrams and even some runes, which wasn’t fair, because Harry never studied ancient runes. When he switched to Ron’s notes from the same lecture, he saw that Ron had simply written: “We turned the desks into penguins. But I accidentally turned mine into a seal, and it tried to eat all the other desks.” He found that more informative than Hermione’s ten pages.</p>
<p>Every time he tried to get up to stretch his legs, Madam Pomfrey would come bustling over, insisting he needed more rest. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight after his escape to the Great Hall the night before.</p>
<p>While pretending that she wasn’t supervising him like a dragon guarding its hoard, she maintained the pretense that she was helping to organize the many gifts from his friends and admirers. Filch stopped by several times with a wheelbarrow full of packages and letters that had been ‘inspected.’ Harry had no idea what Filch’s inspection process entailed, but it seemed to involve Mrs. Norris’s hair getting all over everything.</p>
<p>Once the packages were dumped unceremoniously onto the hospital floor, Madam Pomfrey sorted them into their respective piles. She had set up little stations for certain types of gifts, with flowers in one section, letters in another, and packages somewhere else. Harry noticed that the fruit baskets ended up right next to his bed, while the candy mysteriously ventured further and further away.</p>
<p>At one point, he’d been forced to watch Filch pour an entire bottle of high-quality firewhiskey out the window and down into the snow below.</p>
<p>“Look what someone sent you. Too bad there’s no alcohol for students,” the caretaker had wheezed in delight. “You’re not even of age.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t need to pour the whole bottle out the window, right in front of me,” Harry pointed out. “You could have just tossed it in the bin.”</p>
<p>“I could have,” Filch agreed, with an evil gleam in his eye.</p>
<p>By the time dinner rolled around, he was desperate to make another escape, but knew it was impossible with Madam Pomfrey watching his every move. When Harry’s friends arrived after their last class, Harry was on his last nerve. “You’ve got to get me out of here! Madam Pomfrey is worse than Voldemort!”</p>
<p>The woman in question must have overheard him, because she sniffed and muttered, “Well I’m sorry I’m trying to keep you safe and well cared-for. Does that sound like You-Know-Who?”</p>
<p>It kind of did. At least the new, weird version of You-Know-Who that had kidnapped Harry, insisted Harry ‘belonged to him,’ and that he was going to take good care of him. Harry didn’t bother pointing that out though.</p>
<p>“You’ll be out tomorrow.” Hermione tried to calm him down.</p>
<p>“Here,” Ron offered a note with familiar loopy handwriting. “It’s from Professor Dumbledore.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Dear Harry,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I certainly hope you’re feeling better and that the words printed in the Daily Prophet didn’t upset you too much. I’m sorry I couldn’t visit with you again today, but I’m away on business. I should be back tomorrow afternoon. We have things to discuss, and I’ve made arrangements to get you a new wand.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Best Regards,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Albus Dumbledore</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>P.S. Apparition Lessons begin in February for all Sixth Year Students. I’m afraid you missed the sign-up date while you were recovering, but I took the liberty of registering you for the lessons anyway. Perhaps next time you have to make a daring escape, you’ll have better tools at your disposal.</em>
</p>
<p>“How am I supposed to have time for all this and homework?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ve still got those private meetings with Dumbledore, and political lessons with Neville’s gran, and now Apparition Lessons are starting.”</p>
<p>“Don’t forget Quidditch,” Ron reminded him. “Priorities, Harry.”</p>
<p>“And there’s still the Slug Club dinners,” Hermione pointed out. “Although, if you get really overwhelmed, I’m sure you can pass on your Quidditch position to someone else.”</p>
<p>“Not bloody likely!” Harry cried.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>That evening, after Harry had fallen fast asleep, he found himself dreaming of an unfamiliar office. There were several apothecary cabinets, a small desk, and a bubbling cauldron. All the surfaces were pale and scrubbed spotlessly clean. “What is this place?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Don’t you recognize the School Nurse’s office?” asked a voice from behind him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry spun around to find none other than Tom Riddle. It was the same Tom Riddle who had been visiting his dreams since the summer. Even though this version of Riddle looked sixteen, the same age as Harry, he was still a full head taller than the Gryffindor. His face was unblemished, with high cheek bones and an alluring smile. He was dressed in his Slytherin uniform, complete with a Prefect badge pinned smartly to his chest. His hair was neat and well-combed, quite the opposite of Harry’s mess, but with a subtle curl around his forehead. Everything about him was exactly like the handsome, promising student that Tom Riddle had been back in the forties; everything except the eyes. His eyes were red, serpentine, and slitted, just like Lord Voldemort’s.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ve never been in the Nurse’s office,” Harry admitted. “Just the hospital wing itself. How are we dreaming about this place if I’ve never been here before? All the dreams we’ve shared before were places I’ve been. The Great Hall, the Room of Requirement, the Chamber of Secrets…” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tom’s charming smile grew a bit more mischievous as he crept closer. His hands were held behind his back to give the pretense of being harmless. “You said it yourself, my dear Harry. These are our shared dreams. We may end up in any place that either of us has been. I presume that we usually dream of locations around Hogwarts, because we both hold the castle in such high regard. As for the nurse’s office, I suspect you must have been thinking about the school nurse recently, and your subconscious brought us here.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Maybe.” Harry decided to have a look around while he was here. He peeked into a few drawers to find various healing potions, foul-smelling pastes, and dried herbs. “Madam Pomfrey’s been fussing over me all day, so that’s probably why the dream brought me here.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Within an instant, Tom was at his side, assessing him. “You’re still in the hospital wing? Why? I thought you said you were healed.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry shoved Tom’s hands away, as the other young man reached for his shirt. Last time Tom ‘inspected’ him for injuries, Harry’s body had acted completely against his wishes. He didn’t think he’d be able to hide another unwanted erection. And he couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than Tom Riddle noticing something like that. Except maybe if it was Voldemort himself.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m fine. I’m not injured. I just need to regain my strength.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Your strength?” Tom lowered his hands and gave him a piercing gaze. It was especially disconcerting with those red eyes. “Why?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I…” What could Harry say? Anything he told Tom Riddle, would find its way back to Voldemort. He was sure of that. If Harry told Tom the truth (that he had done an excess of wandless magic to escape, and he was still recovering) then Voldemort would know that Harry could do Blood Magic. On the other hand, as it stood, Voldemort thought Harry had stolen someone’s wand. He was probably torturing all his followers to find out who it was.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Remember when I told you I almost died in my escape?” Harry asked. Tom nodded. “It wasn’t just that I was almost eaten by a werewolf. That was actually the least of my problems. You see… Where should I start? Well, for a while now, I’ve been trying to learn more about Ancient Magic: Soul Magic, Mind Magic, Elemental Magic, and Blood Magic.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I heard that Snape was trying to teach you Occlumency and simple Mind Magic last year.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Yeah, that was an utter failure. I definitely can’t do Mind Magic. But I can do Blood Magic. I’m pretty good at it actually.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry told Tom about how he’d been practicing wandless magic for some time before he’d been kidnapped by Voldemort. Then he gave the true story of his escape. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He told Tom how he’d waited until he was alone with Nagini. He used his Blood Magic, and his strange connection with her, to put her to sleep. When he summoned his broom all the way from the Burrow, it had drained him so much, he immediately fell asleep. The next morning, he was dizzy and exhausted, but he still mounted his broom, donned his invisibility cloak, and flew off to find Remus. Once it seemed like they were finally free, the full moon came out, and Remus had transformed. Harry had been forced to use his Blood Magic again to give him the strength to knock out a fully grown werewolf. Before he’d passed out in the snow, he’d used the last of his magic to send a Patronus to Dumbledore.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tom remained quiet during the entire saga, allowing Harry to ramble on about the entire agonizing ordeal. It was hard to explain just how exhausted and scared he had been. So he stuck to the facts as best as he could.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“So, that’s it. That’s why it took me almost three days to wake up since they found me. That’s why I had to spend another couple days in bed. According to Dumbledore, I used up so much magic, it almost killed me. It might take another few days before my magic is at its normal level again.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You are proficient in Blood Magic?” Tom finally spoke up. He was giving Harry a strangely assessing look. “You can use your Blood Magic to perform wandless spells at your leisure? You used wandless magic to dismantle the wards around the window?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I did? I hadn’t even realized that I dismantled any wards,” Harry admitted. “No wonder I was so tired. I thought I was just unlocking it.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You could have left at any time.” Tom lifted his hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. The young Slytherin had been getting more and more handsy in their dreams. Harry wasn’t sure what to think of that, but it did feel nice, so he didn’t pull away. “You had the capacity to leave at any time while you were at the manor. Yet you stayed. Why?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Why did he stay?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, he’d been kept pretty busy since his arrival at Voldemort’s headquarters. First, he’d been woozy with Calming Draught. After that, Fenrir Greyback had brought Remus, and Voldemort had threatened the former professor to make Harry behave. Then, when Voldemort found out Kreacher had his locket, Harry had needed to save his elf from a fate worse than death. Voldemort had shown Harry all his favorite trinkets; a locket, a tiara, and a cup. Then he’d put the damn things on Harry for reasons he still didn’t understand. There had been the world’s most awkward tea party. Snape had shown up at some point. Not to mention, Nagini had followed Harry around every moment that her master was busy.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There hadn’t really been a good time to try to escape before that. Besides, his time at Voldemort’s house hadn’t been that bad at first. It wasn’t worth it to risk his life, or Remus’s life, to try an uncertain escape attempt. Well, it hadn’t been worth it until…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I told you. I didn’t mind it at first. I almost died trying to escape, because Voldemort suddenly wanted me to kill someone! He wanted me to commit murder and tear up my soul, just because I mentioned I was curious about Soul Magic.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I knew you were upset about the murder issue.” Tom lifted his other hand. There were now two hands cupping his cheeks and stroking gently. “I thought that might have been an excuse though. I didn’t realize that you had the power to leave at any time before that.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I… well…” The soft press of fingers brushing over his cheekbones was very distracting. Before Harry could think about it, he found himself leaning closer.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Tom also leaned forward. When he was close enough that their noses were almost touching, Harry heard his soft, whispered voice. “I’ll make it up to you, Harry.”</em>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The next day was Saturday, and Harry was finally released from Madam Pomfrey’s iron grip. While Professor McGonagall helped Filch move Harry’s many gifts and well-wishes to Gryffindor Tower, Ron and Hermione led Harry downstairs to an unused classroom. As soon as he stepped through the ancient door, he was surrounded by a sea of red hair.</p>
<p>“Oh, you poor dear!” Mrs. Weasley got to him first. “We’ve been worried sick about you!”</p>
<p>After a full minute of serious hugging, Fleur Delacour stepped forward to save him, her silvery blonde hair impossible to miss among the redheads. “Let go of poor ‘Arry, you are going to crush him.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Mrs. Weasley looked affronted.</p>
<p>Bill stepped in before a fight could break out. “Come on Mum, the rest of us want to greet him, too.” He swooped in and pulled Harry into a half-hug. “Glad you’re alright. You’re a trooper.”</p>
<p>“Oh ‘Arry!” Once Mrs. Weasley had been forced to retreat, Fleur launched an assault of her own. Instead of a powerful hug, Fleur kissed each cheek before pressing him close to her chest and kissing him about a dozen times on the forehead. “Oh, you poor, poor, little theeng.”</p>
<p>In his peripheral vision, he could just make out Ron gawking at him, Hermione rolling her eyes, and Ginny making over-the-top gagging motions as if this was the most disgusting thing she’d ever seen. As soon as Fleur stopped her kissing, the twins swooped in to ruffle his hair.</p>
<p>Both Fred and George were wearing bright orange suits, which clashed terribly with their hair and made them look like overgrown carrots. The effect was only slightly mollified by the bright, color-changing badges on their lapels.</p>
<p>“Like our new SPEW badges?” asked Fred.</p>
<p>“We thought about getting you one of these color-changing ones,” said George, pointing to his obnoxiously bright badge.</p>
<p>“But we figured you’d like the singing one better,” said Fred.</p>
<p>“Yes, I heard that song.” Harry shuddered at the thought of the little badge screaming out lyrics throughout the hospital wing. “I’m afraid I didn’t make it all the way to the end, though. It was rather loud.”</p>
<p>George chuckled. “Please tell me you got to the line that says:</p>
<p>‘In this game of chase, this tag, this race; who’s the cat and who’s the mouse?</p>
<p>For You-Know Who, he wants to rule, but he can’t even guard his house!’”</p>
<p>“Or the verse about how You-Know-Who only kidnapped you because he’s lonely and wanted company,” Fred snickered. “We couldn’t stop laughing when we wrote that one.”</p>
<p>“Er, yeah,” Harry nodded along. “That would be crazy.” It <em>was</em> crazy. It was crazy how close they were to the truth.</p>
<p>As soon as Mr. Weasley gave his own half-hug, Harry was finally able to look at all the Weasleys as a group. They were all wearing SPEW badges, like the rest of the wizarding Britain apparently. The older Weasleys weren’t nearly as flamboyant in their enthusiasm as the students in the Great Hall had been. Mrs. Weasley wore one of Hermione’s plain badges, and Mr. Weasley’s color-changing badge seemed to linger on each color for several seconds before smoothly transitioning to the next. It was significantly less jarring than Dumbledore’s badge had been.  </p>
<p>Fleur’s silvery-gold badge seemed to reflect her hair perfectly and bring out the color in her eyes. In contrast, Ginny wore about six or seven badges that didn’t seem to match anything. She had one of Hermione’s originals, another one with flashing colors, a pink one with lace (which matched Lavender Brown’s), one of the green singing ones, and a bright yellow badge that reminded Harry of Luna. It was as if several people had been giving her badges and she decided to wear them all, despite how bizarre they looked together. Harry wished he had the confidence to pull off something like that.</p>
<p>“Oh Harry, you can’t imagine how worried we were about you,” Mrs. Weasley pulled him down into an empty chair beside her, and the family launched into the story of what had happened while Harry was away. Each of the Weasleys seemed careful not to bring up the subject of what Harry might have been up to.</p>
<p>“The whole Ministry was in chaos,” Mr. Weasley explained. “No one knew what to do.”</p>
<p>“Gringotts wasn’t much better,” Bill chimed in. “With you missing, people thought an all-out war might be imminent. We had a run on the bank. The goblins had to shut down for a day to keep everyone from pulling their money out.”</p>
<p>“And they were spending their money on our defense products,” Fred explained.</p>
<p>“The shield-hats and defense cloaks and such,” said George.</p>
<p>“Not to mention the badges,” said Ron.</p>
<p>“Oh Merlin,” said Fred.</p>
<p>“We couldn’t make them fast enough,” said George.</p>
<p>“If you give any more interviews with the Daily Prophet,” Hermione piped up. “Please mention SPEW again. I can’t believe how much attention this cause is getting. And now that you’re the hero who escaped from You-Know-Who’s clutches… Well, you could do a lot of good for house elves.”</p>
<p>“I hope things have calmed down a little now that I’m back.” Harry felt guilty that everything had gone so crazy in his absence. He didn’t realize that the disappearance of Harry Potter would cause such a stir.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, things are already returning to normal,” said Bill.</p>
<p>“Well, a kind of normal,” said Mr. Weasley.</p>
<p>“Enough of that,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Let’s talk about happier things. We’re so glad you found a way to escape, Harry. Although, I must say, you gave us quite a fright when you summoned your broom all the way from our house in the middle of the night.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I hadn’t even thought about that.”</p>
<p>“It was late on Sunday night, and Arthur and I had already gone to bed, when we heard a terrible crash,” Mrs. Weasley explained. “Of course, Arthur volunteered to investigate.”</p>
<p>“She pushed me out of bed and started screaming that we were under attack,” Mr. Weasley clarified.</p>
<p>“Arthur came back a few minutes later. He said that Ron’s window had been smashed open, but nothing seemed to be missing, and no one was there.”</p>
<p>“We thought it best to call Dumbledore,” said Mr. Weasley. “Just in case.”</p>
<p>“He came over in the middle of the night, bless him,” Mrs. Weasley continued. “He looked over all of Ron’s things and yours. He’s the one who realized your broom was missing. We were all hoping that you had summoned it right out the window.”</p>
<p>“You can’t imagine how excited we were!” Mr. Weasley beamed like a proud father.</p>
<p>“They didn’t tell us about it though.” Ron folded his arms in frustration.</p>
<p>“We didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case it turned out to be nothing,” Mr. Weasley explained.</p>
<p>“But then you sent your Patronus to Dumbledore, and they found you, and you were alive and well.” Mrs. Weasley suddenly pulled him into another enveloping hug. “Oh Harry, you just can’t imagine how relieved we all were!”</p>
<p>“Yeah Harry,” said Fred. “Last time we saw you, you looked like this.” He lolled his head against his shoulder and played dead.</p>
<p>“Nah, it was more like this.” George dropped his head back and stuck his tongue out to the side with his mouth gaping open.</p>
<p>“I think there was a bit more drool,” Ginny suggested, oh-so-helpfully.</p>
<p>“Stop zat,” Fleur snapped. “I theenk ‘Arry looked very dignified in his sleep. You know ‘Arry, Gabrielle ‘as been so worried about you. She asks about you all ze time.”</p>
<p>“Gabrielle?” he asked. “Your ten-year-old sister?”</p>
<p>“She’s twelve now!” Fleur winked at him. “She’s only four years younger. Just like me and Bill.”</p>
<p>Before Harry was forced to change the subject as far away from twelve-year-old girls as he could, he was spared by the fireplace erupting into green flames. Everyone turned to see Remus Lupin step out of the floo, dressed in his usual second-hand robes.</p>
<p>“Am I late?” he asked, when he noticed the entire Weasley clan staring at him. “I’m sorry, I was only just discharged from St. Mungo’s.”</p>
<p>“Remus!” Harry cried. Without another thought, he launched himself into his ex-professor’s arms. “I’ve been worried sick about you! They wouldn’t let me see you. I’m so glad you’re ok.”</p>
<p>“You were worried about me?” Remus looked stunned. “But Harry…”</p>
<p>Before Remus could finish that thought, the fireplace erupted again, and Nymphadora Tonks spilled out in a half-tumble, half-summersault. “I’m fine!” she announced, when she sprung back to her feet. “That always happens when I floo.” When she caught sight of Harry and the others, she added; “Wotcher Harry.”</p>
<p>“Back at you!” he said.</p>
<p>“Look Harry,” Remus interrupted. “About what happened…”</p>
<p>“I know,” Harry refused to let him finish. “I’m so sorry I hit you with that broom. But I figured that you’d rather have a splitting headache than wake up next my half-chewed remains. But we’re both ok. Dumbledore said you made a full recovery, and that’s all that matters. Plus, no one knows what really happened, so we can still go through with the adoption!”</p>
<p>Remus gaped at him for a moment, before turning to glance at Tonks. Harry noticed she had a smug, I-told-you-so expression.</p>
<p>Finally, Remus let out a little sigh, and nodded. “Yes Harry, we can move forward with the adoption. But I have a promise to make you first.” With care, he bent down on one knee, so his head was lower than Harry’s short stature. “Harry, I’m going to learn how to control my werewolf form. I don’t know how long it will take, and I don’t know how much effort it will be, but I promise you that no matter what, I will do it. I will never attack you again, I swear.”</p>
<p>Harry wasn’t sure what was expected of him, so he placed his hand of Remus’s shoulder and simply said, “I look forward to it.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>An hour later, after the group had enjoyed a private lunch together, Harry finally headed back to Gryffindor Tower, his pockets weighed down with Weasley products and fireworks. Everything had been shrunk down to slip past Filch.</p>
<p>Harry only made it up a single floor, when he found the way barred by the scowling form of Professor Snape. “Potter.” The Slytherin head of house made his distaste for the word apparent. “Follow me.”</p>
<p> “What?” Harry balked. “Am I in trouble?”</p>
<p>“Why do you ask? What did you do this time?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” said Harry, careful not to draw attention to the contraband in his pockets.</p>
<p>Snape gave him a shrewd look, but didn’t seem to have anything specific to accuse him of. “Come along then.”</p>
<p>Harry followed the professor down into the dungeons silently. He wasn’t sure what to say to Snape, or even what to feel. This was the man who had revealed the abuse of the Dursleys and helped get Harry out of their grasp. On the other hand, this was the same man who had refused to help Harry escape Voldemort’s clutches. To top it all off, Voldemort told Harry that Snape’s nickname used to be the ‘Half-Blood Prince.’ Snape was the Half-Blood Prince. There was almost too much to process.</p>
<p>“Sit.”</p>
<p>Harry blinked, realizing they had made it down to Snape’s office while he was lost in thought. He sat in the uncomfortable little chair across from Snape’s desk.</p>
<p>“Do you know why I asked you here, Potter?”</p>
<p>“Obviously not,” Harry scowled back.</p>
<p>Snape narrowed his eyes. He reached down to open his desk drawer, and pulled out a very familiar piece of wood. “Do you recognize this?”</p>
<p>“My wand.” Harry could hardly believe it. It was his holly wand. The same wand that had chosen him all those years ago. He thought he would never see it again.</p>
<p>“Do you have any idea why the Dark Lord would give me this wand and ask me to pass it along to you?” Snape gave him a scrutinizing gaze.</p>
<p>“He did?” Harry could hardly believe that. Why? But then the answer came to him immediately: Tom Riddle. The dream.</p>
<p>“Can you think of any reason at all that the Dark Lord would want to return this wand to you?” Snape was watching him carefully. Harry shrugged in response, keeping his face as clear as possible and his eyes focused on Snape’s large nose.  </p>
<p>Finally, when the dungeon bat realized he wasn’t going to get any answers, he passed over the wand. The moment it touched Harry’s hand, it was like a part of him he didn’t know was missing had suddenly returned. He felt whole again.</p>
<p>Harry hardly spared a glance for Snape, he was so absorbed by the return of his old friend.</p>
<p>“Was that all, professor?” When Snape gave a curt nod, Harry stood up to leave. As soon as he was on his feet again, he paused. Should he say something? Should he tell Snape what he knew? Should he thank him? Should he be angry?</p>
<p>Harry looked firmly at the chair when he spoke. “Dumbledore told me you met the Dursleys. You’re the one who warned him what was happening.”</p>
<p>“If this is your way of thanking me, I should inform you that you are missing a couple fundamental words.”</p>
<p>“Why would you want to help me?”</p>
<p>“It had nothing to do with you. I saw adults who were obviously mistreating the child placed in their care. It was my duty as a professor and a responsible citizen to speak up.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to give me all those house points though,” Harry reminded him.</p>
<p>“I gave you house points because you answered several difficult questions correctly. Unlike Dumbledore, I do not throw out points as a show of favoritism.”</p>
<p>Harry, who had once seen Snape give Crabbe five points for reading a passage from the textbook correctly, chose not to give his opinion on that. Instead, he shrugged one last time and made his way to the door. Just as he reached out for the handle, he heard a dour voice from behind him.</p>
<p>“You are not your father,” Snape said. Harry immediately twisted around to finally meet Snape’s eye, but the man was looking carefully through some essays on his desk, diligently refusing to look Harry in the face. Just as Harry began to wonder if he’d imagined it, Snape spoke again. “You are obnoxious and intolerable for reasons that are entirely your own.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Once again, Harry only made it halfway to Gryffindor Tower before he found his path blocked. “What now?” he asked Professor McGonagall when she strode up urgently.</p>
<p>She pursed her lips and lifted her eyebrows. “I understand that you’ve had a very trying week, Mr. Potter. So I’m going to give you one chance to rephrase that question.”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Harry coughed, finally remembering exactly who he was talking to. “How can I help you, professor?”</p>
<p>“The Minister of Magic is here. He and a few colleagues are in the headmaster’s office, insisting they speak with you. Professor Dumbledore tried to fend them off, but they’re determined to see you in person to assure the public that you are alright. They have a reporter and a photographer with them.”</p>
<p>Harry sighed. He was exhausted and more than ready to enjoy what was left of his Saturday with his friends in the tower. Perhaps that was not to be. “Fine. Lead the way.”</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall didn’t move. Instead, she pointedly looked at him from head to toe and then back up again, pausing at his scuffed trainers, the frayed edges of his jeans, and the hole in his oversized t-shirt. “I believe we can find time for you to change clothes first.”</p>
<p>Before Harry could protest, they both heard a blaring voice ringing through the halls. “Old You-Know-Who, he thought he knew, he’d like to take a romp. But what a bother, that Harry Potter, he’ll always be on top!”</p>
<p>“PEEVES!” Professor McGonagall was already halfway down the hall when she paused to turn back to Harry. “Just change into something presentable, Mr. Potter. Not your uniform, but something that fits at least.” Then she whirled around the corner. “Peeves, we’ve warned you about that song.” He could hear her scolding tone from around the bend.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Five minutes later, Harry dumped his Weasley products into his trunk and rifled through his clothes, trying to find something that actually fit. He didn’t really own anything nice, except perhaps his uniform. Suddenly, he spotted a silvery green button-up and he remembered that he now owned one outfit that fit perfectly. With a reluctant sigh, he reached for the fine quality material.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Harry adjusted the silver clasp of his outer robe before he knocked on Professor Dumbledore’s office door. Would his professor notice that Harry was wearing the same outfit that he had escaped in? The fine clothes that Voldemort had given him? Would it matter? At least he felt a bit more like himself with Hermione’s SPEW badge pinned to his chest.</p>
<p>He could hear raised voices inside, but they immediately died down when they heard his knock.</p>
<p>“Do come in, Harry.”</p>
<p>As soon as he was inside, Harry could see a few familiar faces and a couple new ones. The newly elected Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, looked as grim and imposing as usual; the complete opposite of Cornelius Fudge. Dumbledore had his usual benign smile. Finally, Harry recognized the reporter from the Daily Prophet. Cynthia Roscoe, the thirty-something woman with ashy brown hair and long legs, was the same journalist who had originally interviewed him about SPEW.</p>
<p>Another young woman stood beside her, a very short woman with thick glasses. She was holding a camera and looked thrilled just to be there. She had probably fought with all the other newspaper photographers for the chance to take Harry’s picture.</p>
<p>“Mr. Potter,” Minister Scrimgeour addressed him first. He held out a hand for Harry to shake. “First and foremost, let me offer you my deepest condolences for the events of the past two weeks. We’re all tremendously relieved that you are back at school, safe and sound.”</p>
<p>Harry gave Scrimgeour’s hand a shrewd glance. He could see the photographer getting ready to take a picture. He wasn’t sure if he wanted a photo of Harry Potter shaking hands with the minister to end up on the front page of the Daily Prophet, but he wasn’t sure if he could politely refuse. He reached out to take the proffered appendage.</p>
<p>Just as their hands linked, Dumbledore materialized beside him and grasped Harry shoulder, effectively blocking the camera’s bright flash. “Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore beamed and pulled Harry toward the other men in the room, just as the poor young woman tried to change angles to get a different photo. “Everyone here is thrilled that you are well. Rufus Scrimgeour and his associates were just assuring me that they were only here to confirm your wellbeing.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Potter, it’s an honor to finally meet you.” A tall and slender man reached out his own hand for Harry. There was something about the man that reminded Harry horribly of Mr. Malfoy. Except while Lucius Malfoy had pale hair and eyes and always wore dark clothes, the man before Harry had dark hair and eyes but was wearing fancy pale grey robes. “My name is Tiberius McLaggen. I believe you are close with my nephew, Cormac.”</p>
<p>“Er, yeah, I guess I know Cormac.” Harry vaguely recalled the stuck-up git who had competed against Ron to be Keeper on the Gryffindor team. Harry noticed that when he shook hands with the pretentious man, Dumbledore was there to give Harry an encouraging pat on the shoulder, while keeping himself positioned between Harry and the camera. He could not have been more thankful.</p>
<p>Finally, Harry was introduced to the last man. “And Harry, this is Bertie Higgs, he’s also a member of the Wizengamot.” Harry vaguely recognized the man from his trip to Diagon Alley with Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin had called the man a prat, which was saying a lot, coming from Draco Malfoy.</p>
<p>“Mr. Potter, a tremendous honor.” Higgs had reddish-blonde hair and the brocades on his highly embellished robes shimmered in the light when he reached out for Harry’s hand. Once again, Dumbledore subtlety framed himself in the middle of any would-be photos, while Harry shook hands.</p>
<p>“Dumbledore,” Minister Scrimgeour finally lost patience. “I understand that you must be protective of your favorite student, but I’m sure Harry Potter is more than capable of shaking hands without your involvement.”</p>
<p>“I have the highest confidence in Harry’s ability to shake hands.” Dumbledore gave the minister a serene smile. The same smile that had always flustered Cornelius Fudge only seemed to irk Rufus Scrimgeour. “I was merely offering Harry my support, since he’s had a trying couple weeks. But of course, all of you know this. After all, you assured me endlessly that you only came here today to check on his welfare. You insisted, and I quote, ‘<em>This isn’t some damn photo shoot. We just need to see the boy is alright</em>.’ Isn’t that what you said?”</p>
<p>Just then, Harry noticed that all three visitors were wearing matching golden SPEW badges. Apparently they had come just to show off to everyone how close they were with the Chosen One.</p>
<p>Rufus Scrimgeour’s mouth was set in a firm line, but it was McLaggen who spoke first. “Heir Potter, you must be quite appreciative of your headmaster’s protectiveness. After all, a confident teenager like yourself would hate to branch out on his own or form his own opinions, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>Harry caught himself before he blurted out some senseless response. He was surrounded by politicians and there was a reporter listening carefully. “I appreciate that Professor Dumbledore cares, my Lord.” Harry gave McLaggen the same polite smile that Augusta had taught him, but he didn’t give the man anything else. There was something just a little too kind about the dark-haired man’s bright smile. “I don’t think that having a protective figure in my life prevents me from forming my own opinions, or becoming my own man.”</p>
<p>“No doubt,” McLaggen nodded in return. “However, while you may be a young man in your own right, it’s perfectly understandable that you might not be fully recovered yet. There’s nothing wrong with letting the people know just how painful this experience has been for you. There’s no shame in showing certain vulnerabilities. Some would say it shows strength of character. The whole of the wizarding world is on your side.”</p>
<p>Harry paused. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, sir. What exactly do you want me to reveal?”</p>
<p>“Harry,” Bertie Higgs paused. “May I call you Harry?”</p>
<p>“I think I’m more comfortable with Heir Potter, actually,” Harry replied coolly.</p>
<p>Higgs swallowed his annoyance and gave what was probably intended to be an endearing smile. “Heir Potter. Of course. Miss Roscoe,” he turned to the reporter who was taking careful notes in the corner. “You may want to include a note about how this traumatizing ordeal has broken the boy’s trust in people who are clearly on his side.”</p>
<p>The ashen-haired woman raised a brow. “Don’t worry about me, Lord Higgs. I don’t miss a thing.”</p>
<p>Higgs cleared his throat before he continued. “As Tiberius was telling you, Mr. Potter, we all understand that this terrible incident has been irreversibly damaging. Do you have any new scars?” He quickly changed tactics when Harry gave him a horrified look. “What I mean is, we understand that Dumbledore was trying not to upset anyone’s sensibilities. However, if there’s something you want to get off your chest, now’s the time.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” McLaggen agreed. “You can tell us the truth of what really happened. I’m sure the public would like to know just how awful it truly was. No need to spare any gruesome details.”</p>
<p>“In fact,” Higgs continued. “The worse it was, the more terrifying the ordeal, then the more willing the public will be going forward. Willing to do whatever needs to be done to ensure that the monsters who hurt you can never do something so ghastly again.”</p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath to keep his temper in check. No wonder Dumbledore had been trying to keep these vultures away from him. They wanted to use his misery to their advantage. Instead of punching Higgs in his freckled face, he rearranged his own features into the coldest, calmest expression he could muster.</p>
<p>“It was a truly unpleasant experience,” Harry said, while Dumbledore gave him an approving nod in the background. “However…” Everyone froze. “It was not an irreversibly damaging one. I have said all I wish to say on the subject, and Professor Dumbledore has been kind enough to pass it along for me. I have nothing left to say. Nothing except, while the experience was painful, I am not broken. If you came here today to see a wounded and damaged thing, then I am quite happy to disappoint you. I am still strong, I am still capable, I still have my wits about me, and I still intend to fight on. Did you have any other questions?”</p>
<p>Flash.</p>
<p>Harry blinked the stars from his eyes. Apparently, the short little photographer had chosen that precise moment to get her picture.</p>
<p>“Perhaps let’s get another photo,” Rufus Scrimgeour suggested. “One of just me and Harry.” He reached out to put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Yes, let’s get one of all three of us,” Dumbledore suggested, setting his non-blackened hand on Harry’s other shoulder.</p>
<p>“Albus, dear fellow, I don’t see why you need to be in every photo,” Rufus subtly pulled Harry closer to himself.</p>
<p>“Oh, I would never presume,” Dumbledore smiled back, as he pulled Harry the other way. “I’m just thinking of the optics. After all, I’m sure you never even thought what it might look like if you got a picture with Harry Potter right after you introduced that new bill of yours. Especially since it’s been nicknamed the ‘Harry Potter Bill.’”</p>
<p>“There’s a new bill named after me?” Harry interrupted.</p>
<p>Cynthia Roscoe darted forward. “You didn’t know about the Harry Potter Bill?”</p>
<p>Flash.</p>
<p>Harry blinked while Scrimgeour practically shoved him away. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Potter. We should go. Let you recover.”</p>
<p>“Wait!” Harry called back, as all three men seemed to scurry for the fireplace. “What’s this bill?”</p>
<p>“Miss Roscoe, come along,” Tiberius McLaggen tried to usher the reporter through the floo first. “Let the boy rest.”</p>
<p>Miss Roscoe didn’t look in any hurry to leave. “Mr. Potter, I would be fascinated to hear your thoughts on the bill being proposed in your honor.”</p>
<p>“The boy can’t exactly give his opinion if he doesn’t even know about it,” Higgs protested. “I’m sure once he’s recovered, and we’ve had time to fully explain it to him, he’ll be thrilled.”</p>
<p>“Harry,” Dumbledore turned to give Harry a bright smile. “Apparently, you’ll be thrilled to hear that yesterday, Tiberius and Bertie here, introduced a new bill that will allow the Ministry to search the homes of any Pureblooded ‘Dark’ families they like. They wouldn’t even need a warrant or evidence, as long as they suspect the house is being used to hide Death Eaters or Voldemort himself.”</p>
<p>Everyone else flinched at the name, but when Harry didn’t so much as blink, he noticed that Miss Roscoe wrote some sort of note about it.</p>
<p>“The new bill is barely an extension on existing precedent,” Higgs argued.</p>
<p>“The existing precedent when you searched the homes of all those Dark families over the summer?” Harry asked.</p>
<p>“Those were all families with proven ties to Death Eaters,” Dumbledore explained. “This new bill, which Bertie was happy to put your name on, would allow searches of any family who happens to be ‘Dark’ aligned, even if they have no ties to Death Eaters.”</p>
<p>“Everyone who’s Dark has ties to Death Eaters,” McLaggen shot back.</p>
<p>“I’m sure Peneus Greengrass would disagree.” Dumbledore smiled into McLaggen’s furious face.</p>
<p>“You hate Peneus Greengrass,” Higgs practically shouted.</p>
<p>“Do I?” Dumbledore looked down at himself, as if to check if that was right. “Hmm, I always thought we got along splendidly, despite him always voting against me.”</p>
<p>“He tried to have you thrown out of the Wizengamot four years ago,” Scrimgeour pointed out.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think that was personal,” Dumbledore shrugged. “Besides, I don’t assume that everyone who doesn’t like me is automatically a Death-Eater. Otherwise, there are a few Light wizards I can think of who could fit the bill.” Those piercing blue eyes seemed to cut through all three men.</p>
<p>“Regardless, the bill is necessary to prevent any more terrible tragedies,” McLaggen argued. “I’m sure the boy will understand once he’s calmed down, and he’s not so shaken.”</p>
<p>“I feel perfectly calm,” said Harry, in the most placid voice he could muster. He raised his hand and held it perfectly level. “And I don’t appear to be shaking.” He let his hand fall to his side. “In fact, the only thing upsetting me at this moment, is the idea that three unscrupulous politicians are trying to take advantage of my so-called tragedy to push through legislation that benefits them, while everyone else is too distracted fussing over me.”</p>
<p>He turned to look directly at the Daily Prophet reporter. “Miss Roscoe, you wanted to hear my opinion of this bill.”</p>
<p>“The boy doesn’t really understand the bill,” Scrimgeour interrupted.</p>
<p>“Dumbledore’s summary is hardly accurate,” Higgs huffed.</p>
<p>“I think I understand enough,” said Harry.</p>
<p>“I think he does, too,” Miss Roscoe added. “I’ve read the full contents of the bill. Dumbledore’s summary isn’t far off. I would love to get a quote from you, Mr. Potter. Let the public know what Harry Potter thinks of the so-called ‘Harry Potter Bill.’”</p>
<p>“Then here you go,” Harry cleared his throat. “I just spent three days with my rights and freedoms stolen from me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I certainly do not want anyone else to lose their inherent rights or freedoms because of what happened to me. We are stronger united. Alienating Dark wizards or demonizing those who are different is hardly going to help anything. I hope this ridiculous bill dies the painful death it deserves.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>It didn’t take long for Higgs, McLaggen, and the Minister to scurry off after that. They didn’t look very pleased with themselves. Clearly, the encounter did not go at all as they had foreseen. As soon as they had left with the two women from the Daily Prophet, Harry turned to his headmaster.</p>
<p>“You didn’t support that awful bill, did you?”</p>
<p>“Even I thought it was an overreach of power,” Dumbledore explained. “And I’m usually the one accused of overreaching.”</p>
<p>“Do you think it might pass?”</p>
<p>“It was always a longshot. Now, with your quote inevitably headed for the front page, I’d say it has about a snowball’s chance in fiendfyre.” Some of the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses chuckled at that, but none offered their opinions.</p>
<p>Harry turned to frown at the now empty fireplace. “I really don’t like them.”</p>
<p>“Then you just learned a very valuable lesson.” Dumbledore made his way to his desk and retrieved a lime green hat that barely matched his sunflower yellow robes.</p>
<p>“What lesson is that?”</p>
<p>“No matter what side of an argument you are on, no matter what stance you take in a fight, there will always be people on your side, that you can’t help but wish were on the other side.” The headmaster made his way to the fireplace and grabbed the jar of floo powder that the others had used to make their exits. “And now, my dear boy, we have an appointment with an Italian wand-maker to get you a brand-new wand.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I forgot about that.” Harry wrapped his fingers around the wand in his pocket. He supposed he could get a second wand, but there didn’t seem to be any point. No other wand would ever feel as right as the one in his pocket. “Actually, sir, I don’t think I need a new wand.” He pulled out the small piece of holly wood to show his headmaster.</p>
<p>“Is that…?”</p>
<p>Harry nodded.</p>
<p>“How did you…?”</p>
<p>“Snape gave it to me this morning. Apparently, Voldemort gave it to him to return to me.”</p>
<p>“Did he say why?”</p>
<p>Harry shook his head. They both looked down at the wand in Harry’s hand for several long seconds.</p>
<p>“Er, Professor Dumbledore, can I ask you a question?”</p>
<p>“Anything at all.”</p>
<p>“Have you ever been in a situation where there was someone on a different side as you? Someone that you really wished was on your side?”</p>
<p>Dumbledore took a long time before he spoke. “Yes, Harry. That is a feeling I am intimately, tragically familiar with.” He didn’t say any more about that, though, and Harry didn’t ask.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>Lord Voldemort immediately felt lighter when he saw Harry Potter. “Did you get my gift?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry looked around at the empty classroom they were in. “I was here earlier today,” he muttered. “The Weasleys came to visit me. Remus stopped by as well.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The Dark Lord held in his annoyance and ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. His temper was always so much easier to control when he was in these dreams, in his younger body.  “That’s nice. You are quite fond of them.” Before Harry could carry on about his favorite redheads, he repeated his question. “Did you get my gift?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s nice to be back and see everyone,” Harry ran his finger along one of the dusty desks, leaving a trail in his wake. “I know I wasn’t gone long, but it felt like a lifetime.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“There are very few people I enjoy seeing, so I will have to take your word for it. Of all these people you visited with, did you happen to see Severus Snape?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>At those words, Harry finally looked up to meet his eyes. “He didn’t understand why Voldemort would give me my wand back.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Something powerful and visceral erupted inside of Lord Voldemort. Harry had received his gift. Harry was surely thrilled to have his wand returned to him. What would he do to show his gratitude?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“So you did get your gift.” He felt the edges up his lips curl into an uncontrollable smile. He could practically taste his own anticipation. “I can only imagine how happy you must have been to have your wand returned to you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The young man pulled out the wand in question, or at least a dream version of it. Obviously, the wand itself could not follow them into the dream. “I was really happy,” Harry admitted. “At first.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Lord Voldemort’s lips pinched at Harry’s words. “What do you mean at first? You are no longer happy?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t know. I am happy that I got my wand back. Thank you.” Harry seemed torn. This was not the reaction Lord Voldemort had expected or wanted at all. “I’ve just been thinking about your gift all afternoon.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What have you been thinking about? Are you concerned about what I might want in return?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh Merlin, that hadn’t even occurred to me, no.” Harry gave him a startled look. “I was just worried about how you were able to convince Voldemort to give me my wand back.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The Dark Lord curled his perfect lips again. “I see. And what conclusion did you come to?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ve known for a long time that you communicate with him. That you have an effect on the decisions he makes. I don’t know exactly when I figured out that it was more than just communication. Maybe it was while I was at the Manor. Maybe it was before then. I know you’re a part of him. You’re intimately connected with him.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m very much connected with him, yes.” Lord Voldemort agreed. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You act so different from him, though. It’s almost like you’re a completely different person, with your looks and your personalities, and yet… The way you speak, the way you think about me, the way you refer to me… The way you refer to him…”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry was so close. Just a little more. There was no reason to keep it a secret any longer, not when he wanted Harry to trust in him and come to him willingly. “You’re almost there, my precious soul. Come now, you can say it.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It can’t be true, though.” Harry had tears in his eyes. “I confided in you. I told you things about my childhood. Things I’ve never told anyone else before. And you were kind to me. You listened. I was able to relate to you. I know you’re connected with him, but you can’t…”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Lord Voldemort rushed forward to wipe Harry’s tears away. They felt so real. The young man’s cheeks were hot and wet. “Oh Harry, it’s entirely possible to be one person when you’re asleep and dreaming of your favorite soul, and then be a different person in your waking life.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“But that different? How could you possibly be…” Harry took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care that the Dark Lord was stroking his cheeks just like he had the night before. “I know you’re a part of him. But there just no way that you’re… you know.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I know exactly what you’re implying, Harry.” Lord Voldemort leaned in close to whisper in Harry’s ear. He enjoyed the way Harry’s whole body tensed as his nose buried itself in Harry’s hair and his lips lightly brushed against his earlobe. “Say it Harry. Come now, you know it’s true. You’ve probably known for some time. You just don’t want to admit it. Say it.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry hiccupped. “Please just tell me it’s not true. Please just tell me I’m wrong.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Harry, you have never run from the truth before,” Lord Voldemort whispered against Harry’s neck. “You have always grabbed onto what you knew in your heart to be the truth, and rode that truth to its final conclusion, come what may. You are not so cowardly as to hide from a difficult truth, no matter how much you wish it weren’t so.” He leaned back again, to meet Harry’s green eyes, and moved his hands to steady the young man’s shoulders. “Say it.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You are Lord Voldemort.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The Dark Lord’s young lips curled into the most brilliant smile he had given in years, possibly in his entire life. He sighed in relief. It was so nice to hear that name on Harry’s lips. He looked into the boy’s bright eyes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hello, Harry.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Things Have Changed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks everyone for sticking with this through the sequel. I'm thrilled to see so many positive responses!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco Malfoy bolted upright when he felt the Dark Mark burn on his left arm. The Dark Lord was summoning him. Before he stumbled out of his four-poster, he cast a quick Tempus to check the time. It was barely half past seven, still early for a Sunday morning, but not unreasonable. Hopefully, his dormmates would still be sound asleep and he would be able to slip out unnoticed.</p>
<p>Another surge of pain shot through his arm. The Dark Lord didn’t like to be kept waiting. As silently as he could, Draco slipped through the drapes of his bed and crept to his trunk. He pulled on a respectable outfit, before grabbing the silver bracelet he had purchased at Borgin and Burkes. With the delicate piece of jewelry in place, he had the ability to apparate straight to his home from anywhere in the world, even from inside Hogwarts. Not that he wanted to risk waking his roommates with the unreasonable noise this early in the morning. Even Crabbe’s thunderous snoring wouldn’t cover the crack of apparition.</p>
<p>Instead, he tiptoed out of the room and into the watery green glow of the Slytherin Common Room. Much to his annoyance, the room was already occupied with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass.</p>
<p>“So, I made my own badges that say STEW.” Pansy was showing Daphne a pink badge in her hand.</p>
<p>“What does STEW stand for?” Daphne asked.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” said Pansy. “But this way, people will assume that I support that stupid cause. But if the Dark Lord were to see my badge, I can show him that it actually says STEW. Then, he would know I’m not really supporting Harry Potter.”</p>
<p>“If the Dark Lord caught you wearing a STEW badge, do you really think he would stop to confirm the exact spelling? Or would he just assume that you’re supporting Harry Potter?”</p>
<p>“What are you wearing then?” Pansy demanded.</p>
<p>“I got this cute gold and silver badge,” Daphne showed her. “But I put it on my school bag, see? That way, I won’t get any little holes in my nice clothes. The problem is, now I have to carry my bag everywhere I go, or people might not know I support Harry Potter. Father says I’m not to go anywhere without a badge. The Light wizards are already suspicious about our loyalties to the Dark Lord.”</p>
<p>“Is this seriously the biggest concern you two have?” Draco scowled at them as he marched through the Common Room. He didn’t have time to wait for their trivial conversation to end. He needed to find an unused classroom so he could apparate to Malfoy Manor.</p>
<p>“Some people still care about their appearance,” Pansy chided him.</p>
<p>“Although, I’ll admit, you do finally look like a human being again,” Daphne conceded. “As opposed to the ghoul you were impersonating a few days ago.”</p>
<p>“Bully for me.” He had almost made it to the not-so-solid wall that served as an entrance to the snake’s lair.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” Pansy called after him.</p>
<p>“Are you off to meet Potter?” Daphne asked.</p>
<p>“Have you asked him out yet?”</p>
<p>Draco froze. He had been moments from exiting, but he found himself slowly rotating around. “What do you know about that?”</p>
<p>“Blaise told us that you never asked Potter out,” Daphne confessed.</p>
<p>“You’ve never even kissed him.” Pansy stood up and approached him slowly. “And here I was, assuming you two had been snogging for months.” She reached out to pin a badge to his chest. “Here, you’ll need this if you’re trying to win him over.” He looked down. The green badge read: STEW.</p>
<p>“You know he can read, right?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I heard he was released from the hospital wing yesterday.” Daphne winked at him from the couch. “If you don’t ask him out soon, someone else is going to swoop in and claim him.”</p>
<p>“This is none of your concern,” he informed them. “Don’t ever bring up this subject again.” He turned to finally make his exit. Just as he passed through the barrier, he could hear Pansy calling from behind him.</p>
<p>“He’s got it bad.”</p>
<p>He stormed down the hall toward the nearest empty classroom, furious with his ex-boyfriend. How dare Blaise tell them all that? Especially after everything Draco had been through in the last week.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>Draco had boarded the Hogwarts Express like he was climbing the gallows. He had drifted through the train’s narrow passage as if a large part of himself was somewhere else. Who knew where the other part had gone? With Harry? Already one foot into the veil beyond? He had barely noticed when Hermione Granger grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a compartment with her and Weasley.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Draco? You look terrible.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Draco remembered taking a long time to respond. “You don’t exactly look like a newly reborn phoenix yourself.” That was true enough. Both Hermione and Weasley had looked like they’d hardly slept in days.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Watch it Malfoy,” Weasley had warned. “I don’t have a lot of extra patience at the moment.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Let me do you a favor then. I’ll leave you both alone.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He had turned to leave, only to find Hermione’s hand on his arm. “It’s alright Draco, you can stay. We’re all just worried about Harry. Ron and I were trying to think of ways to pinpoint his exact location. We’d be happy to have you stay and brainstorm with us.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Draco hadn’t needed to brainstorm anything. He had known exactly where Harry was, not that he could tell anyone. “Granger, do whatever brainstorming you want with your little friend here. I don’t have the energy or inclination to keep up this ridiculous charade of pretending I’m attracted to you. I need to be alone right now.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was done pretending they were ‘dating.’ Not that anyone with any sense had believed it, anyway. All his friends knew he was bent. Apparently, so did his mother.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He remembered Weasley’s spluttered vitriol leaked into the corridor, but he didn’t let it bother him. He found the first empty compartment he could and locked the door behind him. It had stayed locked for possibly two minutes, before someone dismantled the flimsy wards and marched in. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh good, you found an empty compartment for us,” Blaise Zabini had said, as he made himself comfortable on the cushioned seat across from Draco. His long legs had stretched out across the small space and his well-toned arms reached up to cup his head behind his black hair.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Get out of here Blaise. I want to be alone.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m sure you do,” Blaise had conceded. “You always had a terrible habit of cutting yourself off from your friends just when you needed them most.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t have any friends.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Daphne and Astoria are still your friends. And Pansy still cares about you, even if she’s annoyed with you right now.” Blaise had leaned forward, pulled out a bottle of mineral water, conjured a couple fine goblets, and poured a glass for himself and Draco. “I’m your friend, too. Not that you deserve me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I thought you hated me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I hated that you dumped me over the summer because you said you had some big important mission you had to do. I hated that you refused to tell me anything or let me get involved at all. I hated that you showed up at school and immediately started following Potter around like a well-trained familiar. I hated that you chose him over me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I didn’t choose him over you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Whatever.” Blaise took a sip of his water. “Drink something, you look awful. Do you want a calming draught?” At Draco’s vicious snarl, he quickly changed tactics. “Look, I never wanted your stupid boyfriend to get kidnapped by the Dark Lord. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“He’s not my boyfriend.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Whatever label you two want to call yourselves. You need to take care of yourself. Besides, it’s Harry Potter. He’s probably already halfway through some convoluted escape attempt. Chances are he’ll show up halfway through dinner.”</em>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry hadn’t shown up during dinner. Nor had he shown up by the first day of classes. Apparently, it took him until the wee hours of Tuesday morning. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Good morning, students. Please listen well, because I have some important news to report. I am delighted to announce that Harry Potter is here at Hogwarts!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It had been almost impossible to hear the rest of the announcement over the cries and cheers, even with Dumbledore’s sonorous charm.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“He escaped Voldemort’s clutches late last night. A group of colleagues and myself collected him early this morning. He is in the hospital wing recuperating, but he is on track to make a full recovery.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Draco didn’t comprehend anything more after that, his only thought was that Blaise was right. Harry really did escape, just like he always did. It took several minutes before he heard what any of his fellow Slytherins had said.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I win,” Daphne had announced while the rest of the school was losing their minds. She held out her hand.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Fine.” Blaise had dropped a galleon into her open hand. “But you only won by a few hours.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Pansy had pouted as she dropped her own galleon into the blonde’s outstretched hand. “I can’t believe he made it out that fast.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What are you all doing?” Draco had asked. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“We placed bets on when he’d escape,” Daphne had explained. “Blaise said it would be within 24 hours of the welcoming feast. I didn’t think it would be quite that fast, but I bet that it would still be the first week.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I didn’t think he’d get out till at least the second week,” Pansy had explained.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I said one month.” Greg Goyle handed over his own Galleon.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I thought he was dead,” Vincent Crabbe had admitted, as he plopped his own Galleon into Daphne’s waiting palm.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Finally, Daphne closed her palm when Theo Nott placed the last coin down. “I knew he was alive, but I figured the Dark Lord would play with him as long as he liked. I didn’t think we’d ever see him again.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“That’s gross, Theo,” Daphne had scolded the rat-faced young man.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Don’t talk that way in front of Draco!” Pansy had snapped.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Who cares what Draco thinks?” Nott had snapped back. His pointed features were pinched in vicious anger. “Draco betrayed us all when he started cavorting with Gryffindors and Mudbloods.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“His boyfriend got kidnapped by the Dark Lord.” Blaise had stood up at that point. His tall figure was far more imposing than Nott’s wiry frame. “Cut him some slack.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Draco couldn’t handle any more of their chatter, though. He’d found his legs already leading him toward the doors of the Great Hall, toward the hospital wing. He needed to know if Harry really was alright.</em>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <em>“Merlin, how long have you been out here?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Draco had opened his eyes when he heard a voice cut through his troubling dreams. He’d blinked in the dim candlelight and looked around. He had found himself lying in the dank corridor outside the hospital wing, having fallen asleep in the shadows of some chilly corner. Blaise Zabini had stared down at him with a worried look. It had been difficult to make out his features, with his dark skin and black cloak in the dreary light.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Blaise? Did you come looking for me?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hardly,” Blaise had run one of his large hands through his well-styled black hair. “I was on my way back to the common room. I just left the Astronomy Tower.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Why were you up in the Astronomy Tower, in the middle of the night, all alone?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Who said I was alone?” A sly smile had crept onto Blaise’s face. His white teeth stood out in stark contrast to his dark complexion. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Who were you with?” It was about that time that Draco found the energy to pull himself up off the floor and onto his feet.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I was with Zacharias Smith.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Smith!? Zacharias Smith is a pompous prat who talks too much and thinks he’s better than everyone else.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Haven’t you heard?” Blaise’s smile had grown even more pleased. “Apparently that’s my type.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“And he’s a Hufflepuff.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“So what?” Blaise had scoffed. “You’re dating a Gryffindor.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“We’re not dating!” Draco had shouted.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What are you two doing then?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“We’re…” Draco had paused there. “We’re not doing anything. He’s just a friend. We haven’t even kissed or anything.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Blaise’s mouth had dropped open at that. “You dumped me, so you could be ‘friends’ with Harry Potter and not even kiss him? If he doesn’t like you back, then just give up and move on to someone who actually likes you. I’m seeing Zach now, and it’s been quite fun. I wasn’t just going to sit around pining for you all year.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m not pining for Harry! And I don’t know if he likes me back or not. He’s… We never got around to…”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You never even asked him out!?” It was Blaise’s turn to scream. “I felt bad that I had acted so immature when you got a new boyfriend, but it’s you who’s acting like a bloody child. For Salazar’s sake, grow a pair and ask him out or move on to someone you have the guts to admit your feelings for. But either way, you should be sleeping in your own bed, and not in some damnable corridor.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Blaise had stormed off after that. It wasn’t until the next day that Draco had remembered that the Astronomy Tower was nowhere near the Hospital Wing.</em>
</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Draco was pulled from his bleak memories when he entered the Dark Lord’s wing of the manor. He had been dreading this meeting ever since he heard about Harry’s escape. He was sure the Dark Lord would insist that Draco kidnap Harry again, and he knew he wouldn’t have it in him to do that a second time. It didn’t help his nerves when he felt the Dark Mark tug him toward an unknown room. He’d never entered this door before. It wasn’t the Dark Lord’s study, or his private dining room, or even his bedroom. What was behind that door?</p>
<p>Draco took a deep breath, carefully cleared his thoughts, and then knocked on the dark wood.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Do come in, dear boy.”</p>
<p>Harry peaked inside when he heard the invitation. He found Neville’s grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, waiting at the head of a long table. The elderly woman was dressed in her usual starched robes, with her familiar vulture hat. The room itself was the same unused classroom they’d been meeting in for months. </p>
<p>When they had begun their meetings, the room had been filled with unused chairs and desks, with a long table in the center, which they used to practice proper etiquette. Over the months, Augusta had made it clear she wouldn’t sit idly by and look at dusty furniture or blank stone walls if she could do something about it.</p>
<p>During one lesson, Harry had noticed that the grimy windows were spotlessly clean, and he had wondered when that had happened. He did notice when all the extra desks and chairs disappeared, but it had taken him weeks to realize the floors had been polished. Harry recalled one particular lesson, when he’d practiced signing his name with the proper title over and over again. Harry had taken the used parchment and thrown it in the fireplace, only to look up and ask, ‘Has that fireplace always been there?’ To which she replied, ‘No, it has not.’ She gave no further explanation.</p>
<p>Today, when Harry stepped through the threshold, he immediately noticed another difference. “Did you put up wallpaper?”</p>
<p>“Heir Potter, I’m so glad to see you’re well.” The Dowager Lady Longbottom drew herself up to her considerable height. She held out a hand for him to kiss. “And I’m so dreadfully sorry to see that this awful experience had caused you to forget all of our previous lessons, to the point where you are now incapable of giving a proper greeting.”</p>
<p>“I’m so terribly sorry.” Harry rushed forward to kiss her hand. He was careful not to move so quickly that he would mess up one of their other lessons. He kept his movements graceful and his head level. “Greetings to you, Lady Longbottom.”</p>
<p>Once he’d bent down to kiss her hand, she burst out into un-ladylike laughter. “I’m just pulling your leg, dear boy.” She slipped her hand out of his grasp and used it to pinch his cheek. “It’s nice to see you again. Sit, sit. I’m glad you like the wallpaper,” she gestured to the green and blue walls that sparkled with a hint of golden brocade. “Albus told me that I was welcome to make myself comfortable, and I just didn’t feel comfortable staring at those bleak stone walls anymore.”</p>
<p>Harry relaxed into the seat beside the Longbottom matriarch, but didn’t let himself get comfortable. He made sure his back was still perfectly straight. The table before them was set with a silver tea set, a couple trays of pastries, and all the fixings.</p>
<p>“It’s not nice to tease me like that, madam. Making me think you’re upset with me.” He used his wand to carefully lift the pot of tea and pour it into her cup, just as she had shown him to do. “You scared me half to death.”</p>
<p>She used her own wand to add cream and sugar. “You spent three days with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and you think I’m scary?”</p>
<p>Harry poured his own cup carefully before he lowered the pot and turned to give Augusta his full attention. “Lady Longbottom, I have faced the wrath of Voldemort, and I have received a scolding from you. I can honestly say that I find you more intimidating.”</p>
<p>“Good.” She took a measured sip of tea. “It’s nice to know that I’m not quite the frail and feeble old woman that some people would like to think.”</p>
<p>“No one would consider you frail or feeble. At least not anyone with any sense.”</p>
<p>“Nor would any sensible person think of you as a terrified and traumatized child.” She held up her teacup as if to cheers him. “Yet the Wizengamot is full of people without a lick of sense.”</p>
<p>Harry frowned at that. “Who are you referring to?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t you seen this morning’s paper?”</p>
<p>“I came here as soon as I woke up,” he lied.</p>
<p>That wasn’t remotely true. He had been startled from his sleep in the wee hours of the morning, when he realized who had actually been visiting his dreams for months. He’d been too panicked to have breakfast in the Great Hall, or talk to his friends, or leave his bed. The only thing that forced him out of the room was the lesson he’d already arranged with Madam Longbottom. Plus, it gave him a chance to focus his attention on something that wasn’t dream-Riddle whispering in his ear or dancing through his imagination. He refused to let his mind wander back to such thoughts.</p>
<p>He forced his attention back to the present as a copy of the Daily Prophet plopped onto the table before him.</p>
<p>“Take a look at that,” said Augusta.</p>
<p>As he expected, he had made the front page. As he certainly did not expect, the enormous photo staring back at him looked unlike anything Harry had ever seen in the mirror.</p>
<p>“Is that me?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Who else would it be?”</p>
<p>It was hard to explain. The young man in the photo looked bold, confident, and startlingly attractive. He was facing out of the newspaper with a self-assured and determined fierceness. His hair was messy, but in a casual, effortless way that reminded Harry of his father. As for the clothes, he supposed there really was something to be said for wearing clothes that were made to fit. Harry doubted he’d ever looked so impressive before in his life. He wouldn’t have believed he was capable of it, except it had been caught by the magical camera.</p>
<p>It took a moment to pull his eyes away from the young man who was giving him a respectful nod. The next thing he noticed was the headline.</p>
<p>HARRY POTTER IS BACK AND READY FOR ACTION</p>
<p>“The front page is all fluff. Cynthia just talks about how you look well. She says you behave like a confident young man who doesn’t so much as flinch at You-Know-Who’s name.” Augusta turned the page for him. “This is where it gets good. This is where it gets political.”</p>
<p>Harry looked down at page three. The subheading read: ‘<em>Harry Potter denounces the Supposed Harry Potter Bill, Argues for Solidarity in the Face of Adversity</em>.’</p>
<p>There was another photo below the heading. Dumbledore and Scrimgeour were standing head and shoulders above Harry, tugging him back and forth with strained smiles plastered on their faces. The Harry in the photo looked irritated and exasperated. The two older men looked like dogs fighting over a particularly fine scrap of meat. It wasn’t a good look for either of them.</p>
<p>“This photo makes Dumbledore look awful,” Harry shuddered. “I never meant to make him look bad.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense, you didn’t do a thing. If Albus looks like a ridiculous old curmudgeon, it’s his own fault. Don’t worry about that, though. I’ve known Albus for years. That man knows exactly how to present himself to the public. They only see what he wants them to see. If this article makes him look old and out of touch, then you can bet that’s what he wanted.”</p>
<p>“Why would anyone want that, though?” Harry took another sip of tea.</p>
<p>“Sometimes it’s best to present an air of strength, and sometimes it’s best to present an air of weakness.” She reached down and pointed to a particular passage in Miss Roscoe’s article. It was the exact quote Harry had given the day before.</p>
<p>“Dear boy, I think you’re ready.”</p>
<p>“Ready for what?” Harry asked.</p>
<p>“I have taught you how to hold yourself like a gentleman, how to behave and speak in certain circles. It’s high time you learn to lead those circles. Now, Heir Potter, where is the book I sent you?”</p>
<p>Harry froze. There had been so many packages and gifts in the last week, he hadn’t even begun to go through them all. “You sent me a book?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Madam Longbottom bristled. “I sent you a book about the rules and regulations of the Wizengamot. Did it not arrive?”</p>
<p>“Er…” Harry stammered, but stopped right away when he saw the older women narrow her eyes at him. “To be honest, Madam, it probably did arrive. However…”</p>
<p>“Well, let’s bring it here then. Is it in your room?”</p>
<p>“I believe so.” Harry frowned, hating to admit it. “Unfortunately, I haven’t quite opened it yet.”</p>
<p>“Well, you can open it now. Tupper!”</p>
<p>With a startling pop, a small house elf appeared, draped in a neat little tablecloth dress. “Madam called?”</p>
<p>“Tupper, Harry here has an unopened gift in his dorm room up in Gryffindor Tower. Be a dear and fetch it for us.”</p>
<p>“It’s not the only unopened gift up there!” Harry called out, before the poor thing was inadvertently sent on a wild cockatrice chase. “I received a number of well-wishes from various people.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well that’s lovely,” Madam Longbottom smiled. “Tupper, just bring the whole pile and I’ll point out which one is mine.”</p>
<p>Before Harry could stop her, the little elf popped away. Oh dear. Harry braced himself to the inevitable fallout. Professor Flitwick had been enlisted to cast an extendable charm on their bedroom, just to fit the small mountain of gifts. And Harry was certain that more had arrived this morning, as Filch continued his inspection process.</p>
<p>About a dozen packages arrived first.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s that nice?” said Madam Longbottom.</p>
<p>Followed by another dozen. And then another.</p>
<p>“Oh dear.”</p>
<p>And then three more dozen. And then a hundred more.</p>
<p>“What in Morgana’s name?” Madam Longbottom jumped from her seat when the small mountain of gifts threatened an avalanche. “Heir Potter?”</p>
<p>“There’s more!” Harry cried. “They’re going to keep coming!”</p>
<p>“How man gifts are there?” Two dozen boxes of chocolates landed on the fireplace mantel.</p>
<p>“Hundreds!” Harry cried. “A quarter of Wizarding Britain sent me a package or a basket or a letter or something!” Several bouquets of flowers landed on the table, sloshing water onto the pastries.</p>
<p>“Do you know who sent them?” The blue and green wallpaper began to disappear under a mound of posters, framed artworks, and signed photographs.</p>
<p>“I think they all have tags, but I haven’t even begun to sort through them all,” Harry admitted, as a large box of cured meats landed in his lap.</p>
<p>“You’re planning to return everything?” Augusta gaped at him.</p>
<p>“No, of course not. I don’t know if I need all this stuff.” Harry gestured to a large stack of garment bags that almost certainly contained high-quality robes. “But I don’t want to be rude by refusing it.”</p>
<p>“Therefore, you will, of course, send your kindest regards to everyone who sent such thoughtful gifts?” she prompted.</p>
<p>“Regards?” Harry wasn’t sure he understood.</p>
<p>“Heir Potter, I see, in that corner, at least five Firebolt broomsticks. Do you have any idea how much a Firebolt costs?”</p>
<p>“Only too well,” Harry assured her.</p>
<p>“And I would like to think, that you would never keep such a thoughtful gift, without sending a gracious thank you letter in return.”</p>
<p>“Thank you letters?” Harry paled, as he watched another couple dozen gifts pop onto another pile building up near the doorway. “I have to write a ‘thank you’ letter for every single thing?”</p>
<p>“Unless you intend to slight these generous people and disregard their kind gesture with unimaginable rudeness.”</p>
<p>“But how am I ever going to write that many letters?” Harry pleaded.</p>
<p>“You don’t need to write out every single one. But you will need to sign them all. Don’t you have a secretary or someone who helps with your writing and correspondence?”</p>
<p>Harry gave that some thought. “I do have a person who helps me with my writing assignments… And I technically have a financial advisor.”</p>
<p>Madam Longbottom gave an approving nod. “Good. Tupper, that’s enough,” she called out.</p>
<p>The little elf appeared a moment later. She was panting slightly. Apparently, magically teleporting hundreds of gifts was exhausting even to house elves. “Mistress has all the packages she requires?” she squeaked.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to be able to find my package in this mess.” Madam Longbottom gestured to hoard around her. By this point, the table and chairs were all covered. The first mound of packages was on the verge of collapse, a second mound was blocking the door, and a third mound had begun in the far corner. “Go ahead and put them all back.”</p>
<p>“Put them back?” Tupper’s large eyes bulged beyond compare.</p>
<p>“How about she puts them back after tea?” Harry suggested. “Tupper, I could use a fresh pot, if you don’t mind?”</p>
<p>The elf breathed a sigh of relief, while Madam Longbottom moved aside an enormous stuffed dragon so she could sit back down in her seat. “Very well, one more spot of tea, but then you have quite a bit of work ahead of you today.”</p>
<p>“Clearly.” Harry tried not to think about it. It was almost more terrifying than the thought of getting aroused while lying in bed with… <em>Nope. Not more terrifying. Don’t think of that. Think of the overwhelming task of Thank You letters.</em></p>
<p>“Make sure they’re personalized,” Madam Longbottom stressed. “In fact, for the particularly generous gifts, if would be best if you take a picture of yourself holding or using the gift. That way, they know how much you appreciate it.”</p>
<p>“A picture?” Harry gaped.</p>
<p>“Don’t leave your mouth open for fireflies to buzz in.” She grabbed her shawl and made her way for the door, edging around the pile of gifts. “We shall begin lessons in politics as soon as I, and your other sponsors, receive your thoughtful responses. Best wishes, Heir Potter. You’ll need it.”</p>
<p>With that, she left him with a pot of tea and hundreds of gifts that he was seriously starting to regret ever receiving. How could he possibly do this?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Remus could do this. He walked straight past the other werewolves, who stared at him with open wonder. He headed directly for the alpha, Erwin Sykes. Erwin was hard to miss; a big bear of a man, with a grizzled face in need of a shave.</p>
<p>Remus had thought they were on good terms, but the moment Erwin sensed his approach, the man was alert. The beefy man flew to his feet, reared his shoulders back, and seemed to be preparing for a fight. Remus paused.</p>
<p>“Erwin, are you alright? Is everything ok?” he asked.</p>
<p>“I thought so,” Erwin replied, his voice tinged with caution. Remus noticed that all the other wolves had surrounded them, watching them in anticipation. “You were treated well here, Lupin. I thought you and I had an understanding.”</p>
<p>“Er, so did I?” Remus could tell something was happening, but he had no idea what. “Am I missing something?”</p>
<p>“I know why you’re here,” Erwin replied. He cracked knuckles.</p>
<p>“You do?”</p>
<p>“Rumor has it you took out Greyback and his whole pack with your werewolf magic.”</p>
<p>“In a sense,” Remus admitted. “It was sort of an accident. I think they’re all alright, though. I just knocked them over.”</p>
<p>“They’ll all live,” Erwin nodded. “But you’ve fully mastered your wolf powers now.”</p>
<p>“Mostly,” Remus agreed. “Thanks to you.” What it his imagination, or were the other pack members pressing in on them?</p>
<p>“And now you’re ready to lead your own pack. You just need to challenge an Alpha.” Erwin cracked his neck next. “Well, if you’ve chosen my pack, the least you can do is give me a chance to prepare first.” He removed his muddy leather jacket to reveal several lunar tattoos running up his arms. Beneath the ink, his limbs were bristling with muscles.</p>
<p>“Wait, what? Challenge? No, I’m not here to challenge you! Or anyone.” Remus raised his hands in surrender. “You win. You’re Alpha. I only came to ask you a favor.”</p>
<p>Erwin paused to peer at him, meeting his eyes. The entire campsite held a collective breath in silence.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Erwin barked out a belly-rumbling laugh. “Half the wolves in Britain have been gabbin’ on and on about the wolf that almost killed Greyback. Some say you must be the second fiercest fighter on the isle, if not the fiercest. Others say you must have cheated and used wizard magic.” He paused to laugh some more. “Clearly, none of ‘em have ever seen you drink your breakfast tea all dainty like.”</p>
<p>The alpha stepped up and clasped Remus’s shoulder. His grip was strong, but unthreatening. “Sorry, Remus. I let the rumors get the best of me. I forgot you’re about as threatening as a bunny.”</p>
<p>“I’m not that harmless,” Remus spluttered. “I did attack Greyback’s whole pack.”</p>
<p>“And as soon as you had them at your mercy,” Erwin peered closely at him. “What did you do then?”</p>
<p>“Well, I would never harm someone who was no longer a direct threat to me.”</p>
<p>Erwin ruffled Remus’s hair. Then he turned his back and sauntered over to the largest campfire. “Let’s get some tea for the bunny,” he called out. “He likes it with lots of sugar.” He plopped down onto a large wooden chair in the center of the tents and caravans. “So, what can I do for you, Remus?”</p>
<p>“I wanted to come back and stay with the pack.” Remus sat down on an upturned stump nearby. “Not as Alpha, obviously.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I forgot you’re about as likely to rip my throat out, as you’d be to eat a meal <em>without</em> a napkin in your lap.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have many clothes,” Remus felt the need to justify. “I don’t want to spill food on them.”</p>
<p>“Course not.”</p>
<p>Remus sighed. “I need to learn how to control my wolf form. Most of the wolves in your pack can do that. Can you teach me?”</p>
<p>Erwin scratched his hairy neck. “I could. But you’re trouble. Greyback’s got it out for you, now. Even worse than before. If I let you stay here, if I teach you more wolf tricks, he may come after our entire pack. We’re a big pack, but we’ve got mostly families. Women and children and older folks.”</p>
<p>“You’re right. I apologize.” He waved off the young woman who tried to hand him a hot cup of tea. “I shouldn’t have even asked.” He stood to leave.</p>
<p>“Sit your arse back down, you fussy little rabbit. Drink your bloody sugar water. I was teasing before, about you bein’ a bunny, but now you’re makin’ me wonder.” Remus paused, but he did sit back down and took the proffered teacup. He didn’t want to unintentionally offend anyone. “You fought off Greyback once before. Could you do it again?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Remus answered honestly. He took a measured sip of tea. It had the perfect amount of sweetener. “If he tried to hurt anyone I cared about, I would do everything in my power to stop him. I’m not afraid to fight him.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I figured.” Erwin grabbed his own mug, full of something much stronger than tea, and used it to clink against Remus’s. “Welcome back, Remus. This place wasn’t near as classy without you.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“We’re on our way!”</p>
<p>“We be going right now!”</p>
<p>Before Draco turned the handle, the door burst open, and five terrified house elves scurried through. They almost knocked him over in their rush to get into the corridor, but they did stop to make sure he had been righted, and they twisted their ears in punishment for inconveniencing one of their masters.</p>
<p>“Draco dear, is that you?”</p>
<p>He knew that voice. That was not the Dark Lord’s voice. He peered through the doorway to find an ornate guestroom. His mother was in there, standing stoically by a fireplace. However, her presence was almost completely overshadowed out by the tall, black-clad figure storming up and down across the floor.</p>
<p>“Get in here now, child,” the Dark Lord barked. “How many times did I call you?”</p>
<p>“My apologies, my Lord.” Draco rushed in and took a knee in deference. “I came as soon as I was able.”</p>
<p>The Dark Lord barely noticed. He was stalking across the room, examining each piece of furniture with a critical glance. With a quick wave of his wand, a nearby end table burst into flames. Draco jumped to his feet, but his mother didn’t seem surprised. The green lights reflected off the man’s pale, bald head. A horrible cackle came from the far corner.</p>
<p>“Nice shot, my Lord. That truly was an odious little table.” Draco’s aunt Bellatrix was lounging on a high-back chair near the wardrobe. She had her legs spread over one armrest, while she leaned back onto the other. She was casually ripping all the feathers from a decorative pillow without a care.</p>
<p>“What did that pillow ever do to you?” Draco asked.</p>
<p>“We’re redecorating,” she replied, as if that was an answer.</p>
<p>“What is this?” Draco’s attention turned back to the looming figure of the Dark Lord, when he heard his master’s shrill voice. The house elves had returned with several swathes of dark fabric. There were luxurious silks and velvets and chenilles, but the Dark Lord didn’t look remotely pleased.</p>
<p>“Dark Master asking us for fabric samples,” one of the poor elves mumbled.</p>
<p>“We has brought many samples for our master’s master to takes a look at,” another chimed in.</p>
<p>Without warning, the Dark Lord slashed his pale wand, and the poor creature fell to the floor, screaming in pain. The other elves shook in fear, but didn’t dare move. How could one person be so domineering and terrifying, even when perusing fabric swatches?</p>
<p>“I know what they are!” he cried. “Why are they all black? Did you think that I only wanted to see black fabric?”</p>
<p>No one answered that question. Even Bella raised her eyebrows but chose not to comment.</p>
<p>“Get out,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Bring me fabric with color.”</p>
<p>The elves didn’t need to be told twice. They tripped over themselves scurrying from the room. Draco frowned as he watched the bizarre display.</p>
<p>“Why are they running around?” he asked no one in particular. “Why don’t they just pop away?”</p>
<p>“The wards have been adjusted, so none of the house elves can apparate anywhere inside the manor,” his mother explained, while the Dark Lord busied himself with incinerating an ancient light fixture. “Instead, our servants have been running underfoot for weeks.” Her stiff expression showed that this adjustment had not been convenient for her, but she wasn’t going to complain about it.</p>
<p>It didn’t take a genius to figure out who would have changed the wards.</p>
<p>When the Dark Lord eviscerated the curtains, his mother wasn’t able to hold back anymore. “My Lord, if you want your rooms redecorated, I would be happy to refurnish them in any style you desire. I could have these <em>priceless antiques</em> moved to a different location, in order to make room for whatever pleases you.”</p>
<p>“I will not have my rooms crawling with women and elves.” The Dark Lord shredded a small carpet near the fireplace, forcing his mother to jump back. Draco chose not to comment on the fact that the wing had several women and house elves, at this very moment. “This is the only room that will be changed. It will be perfect.”</p>
<p>Draco frowned. The only room in the entire suite that the Dark Lord was redecorating was a guest room? That was odd.</p>
<p>“Out with the old and in with the new!” Bella cried. “Besides, this is more fun!” She had finally grown bored of ripping out feathers by the handful. She aimed a blasting curse at what was left of the poor pillow. It exploded in a puff of damask, tassels, and feathers.</p>
<p>Draco raised a brow as he watched the down feathers fall to the floor. “I’m not sure if you’re improving anything, dear auntie.”</p>
<p>Bella opened her mouth, surely about to make a snide remark, when her eyes bulged. “What are you wearing?” She pointed to his chest. “Is that one of those SPEW badges?”</p>
<p>“No,” he responded on instinct. He’d forgotten he was wearing that. “As you can clearly see, it says STEW.”</p>
<p>“What’s STEW?” she asked.</p>
<p>“A thick soup.”</p>
<p>“AHHH!”</p>
<p>Draco turned to see another elf fall to the floor, screaming in pain. They had returned, and were trembling worse than ever under the Dark Lord’s wrath.</p>
<p>“What is this?” The Dark Lord screamed at the creatures, who were crying with fear. “What color is this?”</p>
<p>None of the elves seemed capable of speech. Draco looked at the fabric swatches. There were several shades of green ranging from pale mint to brilliant emerald to deep forest.</p>
<p>“My Lord,” his mother finally interceded before they didn’t have any elves left. “Perhaps, if you have a specific guest in mind for this room, you have a specific color in mind that they might prefer?”</p>
<p>The Dark Lord finally turned his attention away from the trembling elves. He considered her question. It seemed clear that he already had a specific color in mind, even if it hadn’t quite occurred to him yet. A color that wasn’t green, apparently.</p>
<p>“Red.”</p>
<p>The house elves jumped to it, darting for the door as fast as their tiny legs would carry them.</p>
<p>“What guest is worth all this fuss, my Lord?” asked Bella. She was ripping up another pillow with even more force. She tried to keep her voice level, but Draco picked up hints of jealousy.</p>
<p>“None of your concern.” The Dark Lord turned his attention to the wallpaper, and then his eyes fell on Draco, as if he only just remembered the young man was there. His eyes moved down to the badge on his chest. “Why are you wearing a badge that says STEW?”</p>
<p>Draco was impressed with the man’s eyesight. Who knew those red, slitted eyes could see so well? “My Lord,” he nodded his head. “I have only just come from Hogwarts. My last orders from you, were to befriend Harry Potter. As it stands, he does not know that I was the one who kidnapped him.” Technically, it was Snape who did the actual kidnapping, but the Dark Lord didn’t need to know that. “I have been maintaining my cover until I receive further instructions. This is…” he gestured to the ridiculous badge. “A part of my disguise.”</p>
<p>The Dark Lord raised a hairless brow. “He believes you are still his friend?”</p>
<p>“Kidnap him!” Bellatrix cried, exploding another pillow. Draco noticed that his mother couldn’t even bare to watch the destruction of her carefully chosen throw pillows. “Grab him again. Bring him here. When our Lord’s guest arrives, we can all torture the boy together.”</p>
<p>“No.” the Dark Lord cut her off. “Draco, you successfully completed the mission I assigned you at the beginning of the year. You brought me Harry Potter as I ordered.”</p>
<p>“Anything for you, my Lord.” Draco nodded.</p>
<p>“Things have changed now.” The Dark Lord was distracted when the elves edged back into the room, carrying almost a hundred different shades of fabric in various reds. “That one.” The Dark Lord pointed to a crisp crimson brocade. The elves let out a collective sigh of relief as the long, pale finger pointed out a few other fabrics for drapes and upholstery and bedding. Draco frowned at the colors, a little too Gryffindor for his tastes. He wondered what guest the Dark Lord would be hosting who was so fond of bright red.</p>
<p>“Your new task will be to observe only,” the Dark Lord continued, when the elves gratefully took the fabrics away. “You will continue to maintain your cover as his friend, and you will inform me of everything he says and does.”</p>
<p>“Yes, my Lord.”</p>
<p>“We will need more furniture in here.” The Dark Lord’s attention once again returned to his new project. “A desk perhaps, and some better lighting.” Draco’s heart picked up pace when he heard a familiar hissing noise. The Dark Lord’s enormous, green snake was slithering out from under the bed. The Dark Lord hissed back at the creature in his high-pitched sibilation. He turned to Narcissa. “The bathroom will require a larger tub.”</p>
<p>“I’ll see to it right away,” she assured him.</p>
<p>“What else does a bedroom require?” the Dark Lord thought aloud.</p>
<p>“A vanity table?” Narcissa offered.</p>
<p>“A full-length mirror?” Draco suggested.</p>
<p>“A place to mount the trophies ripped from your fallen enemies?” Bellatrix proposed.</p>
<p>The snake hissed something. The Dark Lord seemed interested in her suggestion.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he replied in English. “A bookshelf, with books that one might entertain themselves with.”</p>
<p>“You are welcome to any of the books in our library, my Lord.” Narcissa snapped her fingers and several elves fearfully slunk back into the room, carrying heavy tomes. “Lucius’s private collection contains several rare Dark Arts books that might interest you.”</p>
<p>The Dark Lord once again listened to the hissing suggestions of his snake, while the other occupants waited in anticipation. “No,” he finally declared. With just the swipe of his hand, a blast of magic knocked all the elves off their feet. “Ancient tomes on Dark Arts will not suffice for this purpose. I will need different books to fill the shelves.”</p>
<p>“We have books on pain and torture,” Bella suggested. “They’re quite beautiful.”</p>
<p>“The poetry books are quite lovely,” Narcissa suggested. “And they’re slightly less offensive to the average person.”</p>
<p>“If you are hosting a politician, my Lord,” Draco offered. “We have several books on both British and international politics. Geography. Magical history.”</p>
<p>“Magical weapons,” Bella continued. “Family curses, blood rituals…”</p>
<p>“It might help if we knew this person’s profession?” Narcissa hinted. “Or at the very least, what it is they do with their time.”</p>
<p>The Dark Lord considered that for a long moment. Finally, he spoke slowly and cautiously. “Are there many books about…Quidditch?”</p>
<p>“Quidditch?” Bella gaped. “This room is for a Quidditch player?”</p>
<p>“Is that a problem?” The Dark Lord’s sharp voice became even sharper, and his slitted eyes narrowed on his lieutenant.</p>
<p>“No, my Lord.” Bellatrix let her curvaceous body slink to the floor, and she bowed her head in contrition. “I was just surprised that there would be a Quidditch player worth all this fuss.”</p>
<p>“All of England is obsessed with Quidditch,” said Narcissa, snapping for the elves to bring the few books they had on the subject. “An endorsement from a popular player could sway the minds of the general public about our cause.”</p>
<p>Draco was busy trying to think of which team colors included bright red, as the elves scurried in with a dozen flimsy books. The Caerphilly Catapults were red and blue, but they were a Welsh team, so that seemed unlikely.</p>
<p>The Dark Lord kicked one of the little elves that tried to hand him a book. “This is all you have?” he asked, clearly disappointed.</p>
<p>“There are many books on the subject,” Draco volunteered. “Unfortunately, we only have a few in our personal library. I know of several other popular books that we could send the elves to fetch from Flourish and Blotts. Does this individual play a particular position? We could find books specific to that playing style.”</p>
<p>The Dark Lord gave that some thought. “What is the position that does nothing, and then catches the little golden ball at the end?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Seeker!” cried Narcissa and Bella in unison.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t say he does nothing,” Draco muttered.</p>
<p>“That one,” the Dark Lord confirmed.</p>
<p>Draco conjured a piece of parchment and a quill and began to scribble several book titles that would interest a high-ranking Quidditch player. He wondered who it could be. The Catapults had a terrible seeker, so it probably wasn’t that team. The Ballycastle Bats had red and black as their colors, and they had a fantastic seeker. However, she was a half-blood of no respectable family or wealth, as far as he knew.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the Dark Lord directed the panicked elves as they tried to move a heavy desk to the exact location he desired, without using their elf magic to pop it into place. It took all five of them to carry the enormous, mahogany piece. “No,” he snapped, zapping one with a stinging hex. “Too far left, back that way.”</p>
<p>“Here’s the list,” Draco announced. “Which of you elves would like to go run errands for an hour or so?”</p>
<p>All five of them bolted forward, with enormous, pleading eyes.</p>
<p>“Nutter will go!” one pleaded. “Nutter would be happy to run errands for master Draco.”</p>
<p>“No, no. Flouty would be honored to leave the manor for an hour to run errands,” another one begged.</p>
<p>“Please!” One of them had tears running down its face. “Please let me go!”</p>
<p>“It’s a lot of books,” Draco tried to calm them. “Perhaps it will take more than one of you…”</p>
<p>Five heads nodded vigorously.</p>
<p>“I need those little slaves,” the Dark Lord scowled. “They can shop later.”</p>
<p>“Was there anything else you wanted changed?” asked Narcissa.</p>
<p>“This hideous painting needs to go.” The Dark Lord leveled his wand at the large landscape above the fireplace, featuring a bright peach blossom tree and several peacocks.</p>
<p>“I quite agree, my Lord.” It was the first time Draco had seen his mother smile since he arrived, although she seemed to be trying to hide it. “A detestable piece truly. My mother-in-law painted it herself, although she obviously lacked talent. I can’t imagine why Lucius is attached to it. I’m sure your guest will absolutely hate it.”</p>
<p>She watched, with ill-hidden excitement, as the Dark Lord pointed his wand at the painting. However, to everyone’s shock, the pale piece of wood slowly lowered. “This is one of those things that people are attached to for ridiculous sentimental reasons?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Quite ridiculous,” Draco’s mother assured him. “No reason behind it at all. I assure you, no one will miss this painting.”</p>
<p>“Except for your husband?”</p>
<p>She pursed her thin lips. “His mother’s paintings are all over the house. I’m sure one single painting will hardly be noted.”</p>
<p>Draco could hardly believe it when the Dark Lord carefully lowered the frame and set it gently on the floor next to the lady of the house. Based on his mother’s horrified expression, she couldn’t believe it either. “My Lord?”</p>
<p>“Today is a new beginning for my reign. I, Lord Voldemort, have become a softer, kinder ruler. I am now a better man. I am more gentle, more forgiving, more willing to accept others’ ridiculous sentimentalities. I have changed. CRUCIO!” He levelled his wand at a poor house elf, who screamed under the torture curse. “You ruined my speech! Get out of my way, you disgusting little creatures!”</p>
<p>The elves ran in fear.</p>
<p>Bellatrix clapped. “You truly are a credit, my Lord. So generous and kind.”</p>
<p>“Indeed.” The Dark Lord smirked at her praise.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Narcissa frowned down at the distasteful painting. “I’m so very glad you chose today of all days to have this change of heart.”</p>
<p>Draco’s couldn’t resist the urge to let his mind wander, as the Dark Lord gave instructions for a new landscape painting, one with no peacocks. Who would that Dark Lord go to all this effort for? What seeker played for a red team, who could hold such influence over so many people? And suddenly it occurred to him: Viktor Krum. It had to be Krum, didn’t it? Who else could possibly make any sense?</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Are you serious? Harry? Please tell me you’re joking.” Hermione looked appalled.</p>
<p>“Every single one?” Ron gaped. “You’ve got to write a letter of thank you for every single bloody present? How is that even possible?”</p>
<p>“It’s not possible,” Harry shuddered. They were sitting in the Common Room, in the most comfortable seats by the fireplace. A group of seventh years had immediately stood up to offer Harry the best spot, as soon as he walked into the room. “I’m going to need your help. She said I didn’t have to write them all personally, I just needed to sign all the letters and possibly send a photo of me holding the gifts.”</p>
<p>“We’re happy to help you, Harry.” Hermione offered him a reassuring smile, but it turned into a grimace when she glanced over and the intimidating pile of gifts in the far corner of the room. Harry had had the elf return his gifts to the Common Room, so he could spend the afternoon sorting through them. “There really are a lot, aren’t there?”</p>
<p>“Hey Harry,” Ron gave him a serious look. “You made me your financial advisor, right? So, you trust my advice, right? If I had an idea, you’d go with it, right?”</p>
<p>“Er,” Harry wasn’t sure if Ron always gave the best advice. But he also didn’t want to risk upsetting Ron, who had a tendency to be sensitive about Harry receiving lots of riches and attention. “Yeah sure. If you’ve got advice about how to deal with all this, I’d be up for it.”</p>
<p>Ron smirked. “Trust me, Harry. I think you’re going to need more help than just me and Hermione.” He stood up from his cushy seat. “Oi, Neville, Ginny, get over here.” They gave Ron a curious look, but walked over. “Seamus, Dean, come on.” Their other two dormmates looked up. “Lavender, Parvati, you too.” Ron’s supposed girlfriend and her best friend both gave him a quizzical look, but joined them as well. “Colin,” Ron cried next. “Do you still have that camera? Go grab it.” The fifth year nodded happily, and ran for his room with his younger brother, Dennis, at his heels.</p>
<p>“All right,” Ron announced to the group. “See that crazy pile of presents and bouquets and letters?” The group all nodded. “Harry’s got to respond to all of them. All. Of. Them. Who wants to help? Remember, there’s no way Harry’s going to keep every single thing for himself. Whoever helps write Thank You letters gets first dibs when he's handing out spare gifts.”</p>
<p>They all glanced at the enormous pile again.</p>
<p>“There are certainly a lot of garment bags,” Parvati commented. “No offense, Harry, but you don’t seem to know very much about fashion.”</p>
<p>“None taken,” Harry assured her.</p>
<p>“I can write the thank you letters for the clothes and robe-makers. You don’t have to give me anything. If you need help, I’d be happy to lend a hand.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, the gifts are for you,” Neville insisted. “But I’d be happy to write all the responses for the plants and the flowers. I’d probably be faster at identifying them.”</p>
<p>“I can write your thank you letters for the quidditch gear,” Ginny volunteered.</p>
<p>“I’ll do the candy,” Seamus piped in.</p>
<p>“And I’ll do all the other food,” Dean offered. “All that gourmet meat and cheese and stuff.”</p>
<p>“I’ll start on the books,” Hermione made her way in that direction.</p>
<p>“I’ll do all the big stuffed animals and little jewelry boxes,” Lavender offered, rushing toward a big pink teddy bear that she obviously had her eye on. “They’re all yours, of course, Harry. But this cute guy with the heart-shaped nose doesn’t quite look like your taste…”</p>
<p>“It’s yours,” Harry assured her.</p>
<p>Ron sidled up beside his best mate, carrying a huge stack of envelopes. “That leaves the letters for us, mate.”</p>
<p>“I’ve got my camera!” Colin announced.</p>
<p>His brother held up a large stack of rolled-up sheets. “And I’ve got some backdrops.”</p>
<p>“Alright everyone,” Ron called out. “If anyone finds a gift that’s worth a ridiculous amount of money, tell Colin and we’ll get a picture. Otherwise, just make sure Harry signs any letters before they go out.”</p>
<p>“And make sure you tell me about all the gifts, so I can record them in my ledger,” Hermione piped in.</p>
<p>“Good idea,” said Ron. “We want to keep track of everything. Let’s do this!”</p>
<p>They got to it.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“It wasn’t me.”</p>
<p>Draco stared at the pile of vomit lying in the center of his bed. He was so exhausted from his stressful morning, he didn’t even have the energy to vanish the offensive sight.</p>
<p>“I’ve been in the Common Room all morning,” Blaise spoke up from behind him. “You can ask Pansy.”</p>
<p>“I know it wasn’t you,” said Draco. He finally raised his wand to try and remove the mess, but there was still a large, wet stain on his duvet. “I don’t understand why someone thought this would be funny.”</p>
<p>“It’s probably a comment on all the SPEW badges that have been popping up.” Blaise stepped forward and vanished the stain with a spell Draco didn’t recognize. “Clearly someone thought you’d appreciate some spew on your bed.” With another wave of his wand, the offensive smell disappeared as well, replaced with a fresh, clean scent. When Blaise caught Draco’s impressed expression, he rolled his eyes. “You never did learn any cleaning spells, did you? You spoilt brat.”</p>
<p>Draco had had a long day, and he wasn’t sure if he could take much more. He stepped forward, plucked the SPEW badge from Blaise’s chest, and replaced it with the badge Pansy had given to him.</p>
<p>“What’s this then?” asked Blaise. “Why does this say STEW?”</p>
<p>“You’d have to ask Pansy,” Draco shrugged. “But I want a real SPEW badge. I’m starting to think those little buggers could use some welfare after all.”</p>
<p>“Couldn’t we all?” Blaise smirked, but when he caught Draco’s eye, his expression quickly changed to something more somber. “You’ve changed a lot this year.” He paused. “It’s good. You’re more thoughtful.”</p>
<p>“I guess I wasn’t very thoughtful before.” Draco felt so drained. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling in that moment. “I never did apologize to you, did I? I’m sorry I dumped you like that. Without hardly a word. And I’m sorry if it seemed like I was chasing Potter’s skirt all term. It’s… hard to explain.”</p>
<p>“I bet.” Blaise guided him so that he was sitting on the now clean bed. “You all right? Where were you all morning?”</p>
<p>“Nowhere.”</p>
<p>“With Potter then?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Asked him out yet?”</p>
<p>“No. Drop it. It’s not happening.”</p>
<p>“Not with that attitude.” Blaise shrugged and turned to leave. “I’ll let you wallow for a bit then. I’m meeting Zach. He’s not nearly as whingey as you are. Just watch your back, Draco. Someone left that ‘gift’ for you. Theo’s not stupid enough to stink up his own dorm, but Vincent and Greg are. You’re not very popular right now.”</p>
<p>Draco sighed and closed his eyes. How many enemies could he make? Why couldn’t anyone be on his side? He took a deep breath, and sucked in the calming scents of jasmine and thyme from Blaise’s charm. Maybe there was one person on his side after all.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath before he closed his eyes. Snape had tried to teach him that the only way to reach that meditative state was to clear his mind and not think of anything. He had since learned that there was another way. He could focus on the memories of his friends and family. Find those calming feelings. Think of the phoenix song.</p>
<p>If he calmed his mind before bed, he wouldn’t dream of… that person. And he could not dream of that person. Not anymore. Not ever again. Not now that he knew what was really happening.</p>
<p>Or maybe he could dream a little? What if, by changing Tom, he was changing Voldemort? No, Voldemort couldn’t be changed that much. Could he?</p>
<p>Harry leaned back and filled his mind with the memories of Fawkes’s soothing song. He would deal with the philosophical arguments later. For now, he needed to sleep. Classes began in the morning, and he didn’t want to spend his first day back distracted by thoughts of… very complicated feelings.</p>
<p>Harry hummed the phoenix song quietly to himself. He slept soundly. He didn’t dream of anything in particular.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed Chapter 1. For those of you wondering what happened to Draco Malfoy, there is a lot of him in Chapter 2, and you'll finally learn what he's been up to.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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